Imperfect
by paresthesia
Summary: "Why do you keep coming back?" she asked, eyes softening at the man before her. "I wish I knew," he wondered. Kyouya stood outside her office door. "Do you still hate me?" Kyouya x OC
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

They had crossed paths many times in high school. Exempt from the uniform as a scholarship student, it was always a surprise to him given her lineage. She could have easily afforded tuition, being the middle child of a real estate tycoon.

They shared the same science classes. Calculus, as well. She scored high, though never as high as he did. She didn't seem to care. In fact, they never made eye contact. She was, in his eyes, a mediocre student with nothing special to her. She was thin air to him, as far as she knew.

Tamaki knew her better than he did. They both shared music classes together, but Tamaki revelled in her technique that surpassed his. He only played for fun. She played to win competitions and scholarships. For her, the class was an easy A.

Mari Takuya was on her way to becoming a professional pianist – worthy of playing for the top conservatories across the world.

Needless to say, the only time they saw each other was after school. She practiced in the other music room, oftentimes her playing would seep through the walls. It offered a soothing background noise for the Host Club. Until one day, when the shattering of the vase coincided with the slamming of the keys.

It began when she knocked on the door – after hours of the Host Club when Haruhi had broken the vase. She poked her head through the frame, cautiously like a cat. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the frilly Victorian furniture that adorned the room. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Her eyes travelled along the entire horizon of the room.

Large sweater. Glasses. Messy short hair.

Probably a scholarship student. Maybe a year younger because she'd never seen this person before in her classes.

Vase broken. Probably worth millions of yen.

She heard the scribbling of a pen against a clipboard. Kyouya Ootori wrote things down hurriedly. Whoever broke the vase was in a lot of debt. They made eye contact and she sighed.

It didn't matter if she asked them to quiet down – this damn club was always a ruckus and she read the room easily. She slipped out of the room just as quietly as she came in. No one knew.

He caught her walking through the halls, her backpack half-opened with the piano scores slipping out of her bag. Their calculus homework had been completed, crinkled along the edges and shoved in between another book of scores. She was messy. She didn't care.

"Ootori-san," she called out without turning her back. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Her voice was deeper than he thought. He hardly ever heard her spoke in class, and she was never called upon. "Please tell your friends to quiet down."

He tilted his head, watching her push through the glass doors.

* * *

She was a classically trained pianist, beginning at the age of 5. Taught by a Viennese pianist who had studied at the most famous conservatories across Europe, Mari's technique was prodigal with the right tutelage.

Yet, she was nothing special. She did not stand out. She took the scholarship entry test on a whim, before she was meant to be enrolled at Lobelia. What difference did it make if she didn't make it? Her grades were average. But her piano playing was excellent.

 _Well, it is up to you where you'd like to go then, Mari._ After her parents had received news that she had gotten into the school with a music scholarship. The only caveat was that she had to represent Ouran Academy on national, and if possible, international competitions to build upon the school's elite reputation.

It was difficult to say that she was a different breed than the Host Club members. She too, was bred to mingle with the rich and famous. But alas, Mari chose another path. While her brother was destined to inherit the real estate business, her younger sister was at Lobelia and in a frivolous stage in her teenage years.

Her mother doted on the youngest of the family. The father groomed the eldest to be the heir. Mari was… well, she was Mari. Free as a bird. An afterthought. The forgotten middle child. It used to bother her until she listened to the conversations in class about overbearing parents and expectations to fulfill as the heirs of their family empires.

She did not envy that life. Mari quite enjoyed the freedom that she had. But like all of her classmates, minus the commoners – she had classes for etiquette, dancing, foreign languages, and of course, music.

There was something nice about being in her own bubble. And of course, Mari enjoyed the freedom of wearing whatever she pleased. The obnoxious yellow dress as a uniform was a nightmare in her eyes. Commoners often mistook her as one of their own given her lack of uniform.

Mari of course, welcomed it. Her friends worked twice as hard to stay in school. They laughed over the frivolous things that the rich complained about. They often made jokes about the Host Club. Somehow, Mari found them to be much more relatable than the rest of her regular classmates. So naturally, Mari grew to find the members to be rather annoying.

Mari never spoke about her family to her friends. And somehow, her friends never asked – they'd always seen Mari to be down-to-earth like the rest of them. Mari was a commoner, for all they knew.

* * *

Her friends were other scholarship students, those who could not afford the fees of the Host Club and thus, were never a part of the client list that Kyouya kept. He would see them eat lunch together in the corner of the cafeteria. Her younger cousin, however, was a client and fancied the company of Honey and Mori. She was a sweet young girl, two years younger than her. Her cousin spoke fondly of Mari.

"Ah, Mari-chan will performing during the same night as you, Tamaki-san. The music students hold a performance at the end of each term, right?"

"Ah, yes!" Tamaki chirped up. "She is so talented! Is that her playing now?" A quiet murmur of Chopin filled the Third Music Room.

The cousin nodded. "She's always practicing so she can keep her music scholarship."

Kyouya overheard the conversation and deemed the information to be useless. She was nothing special. They never spoke during class. She sat a few rows behind him. There was no doubt that she knew who he was – who didn't? He was Kyouya Ootori. His family's wealth surpassed her family's by a factor of 10.

The entire Host Club came to support their friend, and of course – leader of the Host Club at the end of the term for his performance. Haruhi was dragged along, under the bribe of her debt being lowered by 1% for every half hour that she spent with the club (at the expense of Tamaki's own salary, of course).

The group of friends gathered backstage to meet the blonde. The rest of the performers were playing their own instruments – violinists, flautists, oboists and everything in between. It was a bit of a chaotic time as the musicians tuned their instruments and made last minute adjustments to their performance. Mari sat in the corner with her headphones in, studying the score of her piece.

She wore a silk black gown that pooled to the floor. She blended in with the curtains – understated as usual. Her hair was in a simple bun. She looked sophisticated for a sixteen year old. Her makeup done to perfection. Her fingers moved along the beat.

"That's Mari Takuya," Tamaki pointed out, half-yelling over the noise. "She's going before me."

"Shouldn't you also be reviewing your score?" Kyouya pointed out. Mari was deep in concentration while Tamaki was bouncing around the walls, a nervous wreck of energy that the Twins only fuelled with their teasing.

"Aye Tono, wouldn't it be hilarious if you froze and forgot your entire piece?" the Twins laughed and slapped each other on the back.

The leader of the Host Club groaned. "Haruhi! Tell them to stop!"

"I'm only here to decrease my debt," she grumbled, wanting nothing to do with the growth that had suddenly latched onto her arm.

"This is a good chance for you to experience culture as a commoner," Kyouya pointed out. To which, Haruhi rolled her eyes.

"Hey, isn't she a scholarship student?" Haruhi had seen Mari around the halls – also uniform-less. Or at least, before she got a uniform herself. "She blends in very well tonight. I wouldn't have been able to tell her apart from the rich."

"She _is_ rich," Kyouya muttered.

"Oh," Haruhi was pleasantly surprised. "Didn't seem like it."

Mari noticed the sudden crowd that formed in her peripheral vision. The damn Host Club was here. She watched as Tamaki bounced off the walls, the Twins following closely behind the boy to taunt him. That short haired one, the scholarship student who magically got a uniform after all these months seemed to be the only sane one with the quiet giant who stood with a sleepy little blonde. Honey, if she remembered correctly.

She huffed. They were a distracting crowd.

Mari stood to get some air. She had fifteen minutes before the show began. She was the opening act. The plan was to play, bow, and leave. All within half an hour.

* * *

Mari was certainly an accomplished pianist. Her introduction had varying titles strewn at the end of her name, far more accomplished than Tamaki in every way.

 _"Is this the set list? Ah, that Takuya girl is performing isn't she? I heard her play with the Tokyo Orchestra a few months ago. She is brilliant. True to the score in every way possible. Highly technical. A bright future in music for that young lady."_

Kyouya raised an eyebrow at the conversation behind him as he settled in the rows of seats in the theatre.

"She plays in the exact opposite of Tamaki," Haruhi noted.  
"Hm?"

The girl beside him shrugged. "Just a thought."

Kyouya slipped away from the theatre to review the finances for the club. Something in the books didn't add up. There were four acts in between Mari and Tamaki. Quite frankly, Kyouya couldn't have cared less. He found a quiet spot in the crook of the staircase, before bumping into a crouched figure who sat on the marble steps, the fabric of the gown pooling around her. It was a tripping hazard. Kyouya glared at the girl who had just gotten off the stage.

She raised an eyebrow at him. _What?_

He was expecting an apology.

She wasn't going to give one to him. Mari refused to bow down to someone like him. He was nicknamed the Shadow King and to hell with that stupid title, she thought.

She blinked up at him, her eyelashes fluttering innocently. Mari wasn't about to apologize, not when she had this spot first.

"You're in the way," Kyouya gritted through his teeth.

"There is an alternate route, Ootori-san." Mari clicked her tongue as she got up gracefully with her heels. She walked up the stairs with the train of her dress purposefully in the way of the Ootori. Only the sound of her heels filled the deafening silence. She took her sweet time, annoying the Ootori who glared daggers into her back.

* * *

Mari was never one to be petty. She was taught better than to do things out of spite.

But he was something else. The way he ruled the entire class, as class president or as the Shadow King with everyone under his grip – it was unfair. Mari didn't expect to be on his radar, ever. Never in her life did she expect herself to be worthy of his attention and she never wanted it either.

Mari spoke with Tamaki on the occasion – he often invited her to the Host Club, to which, she always politely declined. He understood, given their shared class of music. It was not easy to win competitions without practice.

Mari ran into that other scholarship student one day. Her clumsy self had dropped her piano scores as it fell out of her backpack. A pair of feminine hands had reached down to help her gather the loose sheets.

Mari looked up to see that it was the same person who had broken the vase.

"Thank you," she softly murmured. "You didn't have to."

"Oh, it's nothing," the voice was surprisingly high. Short hair. Feminine hands. Large brown eyes.

 _Huh, I didn't know the Host Club had female hosts._

"I'm Haruhi," she held out a hand.

"Mari," the pianist reciprocated.

"I heard you play last term at the performance with Tamaki," Haruhi noted. "You were excellent."

She blinked. "I…try," Mari humbly accepted the compliment. "You're… a host?"

Haruhi nodded.

"Against your will?" Mari offered in explanation.

"How did you know?" the female host widened her eyes in surprise.

"I heard a vase break in the beginning of the year." _And it threw me off my practice._ "The walls are thin between the music rooms," she explained. "You're a new face." Mari put the pieces together quickly.

"Ah," Haruhi nodded. "You're also a scholarship student, yes?"  
Mari nodded in confirmation. "I'll see you around." The student turned to the adjacent door and opened it to begin her practice of the day.

"Yeah. See you," Haruhi waved goodbye.

The youngest host opened the music room door to find the Shadow King standing right behind it.

"You cannot tell people you are a _host against your will_ , Haruhi. What kind of business are we running? A brothel?" The Shadow King growled. He quickly whipped out his padfolio and began taking notes.

"You're not… adding more debt… are you?" Haruhi wailed.

The Ootori did not answer. He gave a quick glare.

There was a knock on the door. Neither of the two answered it.

"Whatever your business is – it's illegal and adding more debt to that poor girl does nothing but smear your reputation."

Keyword: _girl_.

Kyouya narrowed his eyes and violently opened the door to find Mari with her arms crossed, standing aloof. He was quick to drag her in before anyone else heard about the secret that had been garnering more profit for the club than ever before. She yelped in surprise and her fury only grew at the Shadow King.

"How did you _know_ about Haruhi?" Kyouya began interrogating.

Mari blinked. Their entire business plan was based on Haruhi as a _male_ host. It suddenly made sense.

"It would be wise not to cross an Ootori, Takuya-san." The Shadow King's patience was waning thin.

"Oh," she softly said, her eyes widening in amazement. Those bright orbs mocked him in every way. It made Kyouya's blood boil. "So you _do_ know my name."

"Answer the question, Takuya-san," Kyouya growled, obviously annoyed that the girl had no reaction to his threat. Was she _stupid_?

"Well – if I tell you, will you decrease her debt?"

"No," his answer was firm.

"Hm," Mari shrugged. "Well then. Best of luck, Haruhi-chan. Oh wait – why not just _tell_ everyone that you're a girl so you'll get out of this dumb club?"

Haruhi opened her mouth to answer.

"That is not an option," the Shadow King interjected. "Do you know how much power I have?"

"As an Ootori?" Mari scoffed. "Yes. We all do," she rolled her eyes. Mari huffed and turned her heel towards the door. She had enough of this bullshit and she was already behind schedule in her piano practice, anyway.

The Shadow King watched as the girl unabashedly walked out of the music room, daring to defy his orders.

 _Who did she think she was_?

* * *

"What if we bribe her?" Hikaru suggested.  
"Yeah, she's poor, isn't she?" Kaoru piped up.

Mori stayed silent and Honey only watched the events unfold as he ate his strawberry cake. The Host Club had an emergency meeting after hours.

"She doesn't _need_ money," Kyouya growled. "She's rich."

"Oh?" Tamaki raised an eyebrow.

"Not as rich as us," the Ootori clarified.

Haruhi blinked at the members of the Host Club, confused by their panic. "It doesn't seem like she would tell anyone. She seems quite nice, actually."

"Haruhi, do not be so naïve," the Shadow King rolled his eyes. "What we need is dirt."

"You mean, blackmail?" the Twins corrected.

Haruhi groaned. "She doesn't respond to threats, Kyouya. She didn't even bat an eye earlier today at you – and you're terrifying."

"Thank you," Kyouya monotonously responded.

"It wasn't a compliment," Haruhi muttered.

Tamaki sighed. "No, do not blackmail Mari-chan. That is not gentlemanly."

The Twins snickered. "As if we're all gentlemen here."

"Why don't we just talk to Mari-chan?" Honey suggested.  
"We did," Kyouya snapped. "And she was uncooperative." He still remembered the way she looked at him. Eyes fierce enough to fight any battle he threw at her.

"Well, to be fair…" Haruhi interjected. "You were threatening her."

The piano playing from the 2nd room stopped during a lull in the Host Club's discussion. Kyouya shook his head at all of his friends and exited the room to intercept Mari before she left. The door creaked open at the same time, revealing the Shadow King waiting patiently to unleash his fury upon the innocent young lady.

Mari glared at the boy and made the move to side step her way around Kyouya.

"Not so fast," he held up his hand. "Unless you want to run away like a coward."

Mari scoffed. "Get to the point, Ootori-san. Not all of us have all the time in the world to dilly dally and play host."

"Are you calling our establishment a waste of _time_?" He narrowed his eyes. As if she couldn't be any more irritating.

"I'm calling _you_ a waste of time," Mari grumbled, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.

"Oh ho ho ho…" the Twins snickered. "We like her!" they yelled from the back.

Tamaki popped his head out of the door, scurrying to Kyouya's side.

"My apologies, our Shadow King is… not very well accustomed to being…" Tamaki trailed off, looking at Kyouya for him to step in with an apology.

"Human?" Mari suggested.

There was a chortle from the music room. Probably the Twins again. It was Haruhi's turn to come out from the music room.

"It would do you well to watch your tongue," the Ootori warned.  
"So you could waste resources to sue me because your family has enough money to do so?" Mari scoffed. "Please, as if I haven't heard the rumours about you."

"It isn't a rumour, Takuya-san."

Mari shrugged, calling his bluff.

"I could make your life a living hell," the Ootori gritted through his teeth.

"You can try—" the musician rolled her eyes.

"Alright," Haruhi put an end to their bickering. "Mari-chan, it would be nice of you if didn't tell anyone about me being a female," she got straight to the point.

Mari nodded. "If that's what you want. I can respect that." She was agreeable much to Kyouya's surprise.

Haruhi narrowed her eyes at the Shadow King, as if to prove her point that it didn't take threats nor blackmail to get their way. Kyouya rolled his eyes. She was naïve.

"How can we trust you?"

"I'm more trustworthy than you are," Mari pointed out.

"Aye, she has a point there…" One of the twins piped up. A mirror image appeared. "Kyouya has always been a scary guy. Wouldn't mess with him y'know?"

"Please, Mari-chan," Tamaki gave his puppy dog eyes.

Mari looked directly at Haruhi. She was searching for some sort of plea. A cry for help. Anything.

"Like I said," she repeated. "If that's what _you_ want." Mari gave Haruhi one more chance. But Haruhi smiled at her, her eyes brightening up and nodding. Mari couldn't for the life of her understand why the poor commoner would want to hang with the group of shenanigans, but she was not one to overstep her boundaries either.

"Alright," Mari turned to side step around Kyouya once more. Her shoulder brushed against his unintentionally, bumping against him.

"Watch where you're going," he narrowed his eyes.

Mari would have apologized but decided that he didn't deserve it. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gave a half-assed wave of goodbye.

* * *

She was always one of the first people to reach class and of course, the quickest one to leave. Mari spent her mornings playing the piano at school, and her afternoons practicing as well. Home was for homework, of course. Piano lessons were on the weekends, extensive six hour sessions that spanned the entire afternoon with a half hour break.

Mari did not take kindly to mornings. Her playing was sloppy, her brain unable to keep track of the beat of the metronome with ease, and none of the scores were able to imprint into memory.

Her presence irritated him – ever since she told him to tell his friends to quiet down. How stupid she was, to even dare to cross one of the most powerful families in Japan. She was unabashed in her ways. The way she sauntered around – without a uniform no less, in her commoner clothing that he swore only consisted of oversized hoodies and jeans. Her hair was always in a rat's nest. It disgusted him.

As class president, it was only natural for Kyouya to show up early. Every morning, she would show up with a scowl in her usual outfit – like a pan handler. Kyouya scoffed at the way she trudged her way into the classroom, drinking her coffee in some beaten up travel mug, riddled with scratches. He could smell the coffee and he deduced that it was probably much too sweet.

 _She even drinks her coffee like an uncultured peasant._

He glared at her.

She shot back an equally icy look.

Mari took her seat behind him, her chair screeching against the wooden floors purposefully to mess with the Shadow King who ruled the realm of Ouran.

Tamaki watched the whole ordeal, sinking himself into the background. The tension between the two of them only made him shiver. How little these two could speak to each other, and yet their look in their eyes only screamed how much they despised one another. Tamaki was too afraid to even ask why he hated her so much.

Mari was pleasant during his classes with her. She always had been, especially when he asked of her opinion on his piano playing.

 _"I like how you channel your emotions so freely into your playing, Suoh-san."_

He still remembered the time she complimented him after one of their seminars in class. Her critique was fair and very helpful.

" _Softer on the pedals through the second phrase, between measures 55-68. You want that crisp sound with a growing crescendo."_

It was like taking a master class with a seasoned professional that had been playing for decades – Tamaki was blown away by the fact that they were the same age. Tamaki thanked her for her critique, especially after acing his final performance exam.

" _Oh, please do not take my comments too seriously. Every musician interprets the score differently, Suoh-san. You play wonderfully – better than I do in many aspects."_

Mari was a wooden block when she played. Stiff and stoic. But her fingers moved gracefully across the keys, she interpreted the score as is. She respected the composers in every way possible, bringing each composition out in its true form.

In the same regard, Tamaki also never quite understood why Mari disliked the Shadow King so much. She was nice to everyone – except Kyouya.

Tamaki could have sworn that his best friend didn't even blink twice at the musician before she had discovered Haruhi's secret. She was thin air to him, as far as he knew. But now, Kyouya regarded her like an enemy, sneaking glares of disgust at her whenever he thought no one was looking.

* * *

It was obvious that he hated her.

Mari was not oblivious to the glares that he shot at her every chance he got. Was it a tactic to try to scare her? He infuriated her. He always had.

First with his stupid smirk that somehow all these girls found attractive. Second with his obnoxious attitude that ruled the realm of Ouran, playing the part of someone _cool_ – he was honestly just a jerk. Thirdly, he was nothing more than a con man who capitalized on every single opportunity for money.

He was everything that Mari grew to find unfair and unjust. It was no surprise that they butted heads and her sharp tongue had gotten her where she was today.

It was a miracle that no one even noticed their tiff. The war that they fought on a daily basis. The dirty looks. The screeching of their chairs. The scoffs. The eye rolling.

Mari stuck to her usual schedule of practicing after school. By 6 PM, Mari stopped playing and packed her bag.

Kyouya stayed behind after hours of the club, tidying up the finances after Haruhi had cleaned up after the rest of the members. The same click of the door revealed both of them stepping out of their respective rooms to go home for the day.

Mari pursed her lips and locked the room. She began walking, avoiding any form of contact with the Shadow King.

Kyouya followed in her footsteps shortly after.

They waited for their respective chauffers outside the gates of Ouran. Mari leaned against the iron gate, untangling her headphones as she readied herself to ignore the Ootori at the maximum level. He eyed the girl.

Of course she'd have her earbuds tangled. Her homework was always crinkled with coffee stains. She wrote her calculus homework in pen and would scribble out the mistakes. Mari was a mess. Messy Mari, he thought to himself. He chuckled.

"Something you find funny, Ootori-san?" the girl snarled.

The Ootori stopped himself and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, I thought we were better off ignoring each other too," she snidely responded, tilting her head up to avoid his gaze. Her long fingers stuck an earbud into one of her ears before looking down at her phone to choose a playlist.

It was an old model of a phone from two years ago. Kyouya rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why she chose to live like a peasant when she clearly had the funds to invest in a better quality device. He couldn't fathom why she was never _resourceful_. He sighed.

"Okay, cut it out," Mari gritted her teeth. "If you're going to make noises like that then you might as well tell me what you're thinking to my face instead of silently judging me for what I wear and how I act."

Kyouya Ootori smirked. "Oh, so you care about my opinion?"

Mari exhaled as her nostrils flared. "You're right. You just reminded me that your opinion is worth nothing."

"Worth nothing? For your information, the Ootori Corporation's stock went up by 0.5% today. I don't see your family business being listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange."

"Your wealth is inversely correlated to your integrity, Ootori-san," Mari shot back. "I wouldn't be so proud of that."

"I wasn't aware that you were a member of the moral police. By all means, please arrest me."

Mari opened her mouth to argue before Kyouya beat her to it.

"Except that it seems as though the Ootoris are the ones who own a private police unit, and you… have a petty amount of land in your family."

"Real estate developments," Mari shot back. "Do your research, Ootori-san."

"Oh, I have," the Ootori assured. "You are more than wealthy enough to afford tuition and yet, you choose to appear like a peasant amongst the rich. Your friends don't seem to realize that you are, in fact, one of us."

"Is that a threat?" Mari lowered her voice.

Kyouya smirked.

"Wow – that's truly low," Mari murmured and shook her head. "What are you going to do? Tell them that I'm rich? That I don't deserve to be a scholarship student? Make sure all my friends turn against me? Render me a loner for the rest of my high school years?"

"Surely, I believe your… friends," he spat out the word like it was poison. Scholarship students were synonymous with being commoners. "Wouldn't appreciate you lying to their face about your family background."

Mari narrowed her eyes. "Kyouya Ootori – mark my words: you are a cruel bastard with no moral compass. I dare you to sue me for slander but I know you won't because you revel in the fear of others. The power you hold. The enjoyment that is plastered across your face when you watch people squirm under your grip."

A black BMW pulled up against the curb. Mari reached for the door.

"I hate you with every fibre in my body."

And with that, she left.

* * *

 _I hate you with every fibre of my body._

 _You are a cruel bastard with no moral compass._

 _You revel in the fear of others._

Kyouya Ootori let the words ring at the back of his head.

These were compliments, right? But why did he feel so uneasy around her? He had achieved his goal already. He was obviously the one with the power. He had shaken her walls, broken through the front. He was part of the wealthier family. He had higher grades. Kyouya Ootori was the one with better prospects.

All Mari would amount to was a professional pianist. Who knows? Maybe she would study at a conservatory some place across the ocean, in Europe. Play some concerts. Earn a bit of money. Marry into another family of similar wealth – surely, it wouldn't be too hard for her. Assuming that she would take care of the rat's nest on her head and stopped wearing oversized sweaters. She cleaned up fine at the performance - she could do the same for a spouse. After that, Mari would disappear off the face of earth.

She was nothing. Irrelevant. A speck of algae in the midst of the Pacific ocean.

And yet, Mari Takuya was someone that stung him each time he saw her. Somehow, she saw straight through him in the lens that he found to be the most deceitful.

He was used to being revered by the female population. They fawned over him. Kyouya Ootori was feared by the rest of the school. And anyone who knew the name knew to never cross him. He carried his family's name with pride and he honoured it in the best way he could by upholding the highest standard for himself.

Mari Takuya was mediocre. Her grades were a little above average at best. She wasn't particularly pretty, either. Nothing to attract attention.

So why _did_ he hate her so much?

* * *

Mari always sat near the back of the class. Second row from the back, near the windows. She liked the natural sunlight – it kept her awake, especially during the rough mornings of piano practice and being only half awake to function like a normal human being.

So naturally when the new term began, Mari gravitated towards her usual spot.

"Mari Takuya – please follow the seating arrangement."

Mari reluctantly turned to the blackboard, sighing at the voice of their new biology instructor. She squinted at the names.

 _Mari Takuya._ 3rd row from the back. At least it was near the window, she thought. Her eyes glazed over to the name beside hers.

 _Kyouya Ootori._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He walked into the classroom, already spotting Mari with a scowl on her face as she stared against the blackboard. Her travel mug was put away in her locker, he figured. She usually scowled as she drank coffee, her eyes squinting at the front of the class. It was a usual look for her. There were no food or drinks were allowed in the science classrooms.

Kyouya turned to the blackboard to find a seating arrangement. Third row from the back near the windows. His eyes darted to his seatmate.

 _Mari Takuya._

The scowl made more sense now.

Kyouya made his way over to his side of the bench, coolly taking his seat without batting an eye. Mari could scowl, sulk, and give dirty looks at him if she chose to act like a child. The Ootori refused to fall to that level of immaturity.

Sure, Mari could sit beside the guy, right? She was here to learn, not to be infuriated by the jerk. Mari took a deep breath and paid attention to the class. She opened up her notebook and tried her best to take notes. She had to admit that the clacking of his keyboard made it more difficult to pay attention.

She took notes by hand that were legible, to say the least. She had a short form that Kyouya couldn't quite decipher. She wrote at a slight slant, her pen smearing against the side of her palm. They weren't the prettiest notes, that was for sure.

The Ootori organized his notes on his laptop by subject, date, and topic. Diagrams were often copied from the textbook and he preferred to gather the images through the electronic version of the textbook. Mari however, sketched the diagrams by hand. Kyouya rolled his eyes at her inefficiency.

She wanted to tell him to _stop typing so damn loud._ Their first assignment was a report that could be submitted individually, or with your seatmate as a partner. Most people opted to work in partners to split the workload. Kyouya and Mari didn't bother even discussing the possibility of working together.

They shared calculus next. Kyouya hadn't realized this pattern of her continuing studies in science and mathematics. It didn't suit her, he decided. With her piano playing, he would've expected her in world history, linguistics, or even social studies. Mari sat with the rest of the scholarship students when there was no seating arrangement.

" _Did you hear about the dance?"_

Kyouya eavesdropped on their conversation in the corner.

" _What dance?_ "

" _The annual dance! Sometimes I wish I could go but… I can't afford a nice dress. Or even the ticket. It's ridiculous, really."_

Mari listened to her friends talk about the annual dance. She didn't care much for it, and never really did. But her younger cousin wanted her to go. Her aunt and uncle preferred that she had someone to go with, just in case.

Mari's cousin had a date to the dance but couldn't tell her parents about it. Her cousin pleaded for her to help and she only reluctantly agreed for the sake of being nice. She was her cousin after all.

 _"You won't be missing out on much," Mari reassured her friend._

 _"You think so?"_

 _"Yeah," the Mari nodded with a smile. "You have more important things to worry about."_

Mari's calculus quiz came back with an 87%. It was an acceptable grade, to be quite frank. Kyouya had a glimpse of her test score when she stuffed into her backpack. He raised an eyebrow. He beat her by 13% - quite the margin.

He triumphed in that thought.

* * *

"I don't need a chaperone," Raina grumbled. Mari's cousin was embarrassed that she had to be supervised to go to a school dance. "I'm sorry they made you do this."

Mari shrugged. "It's fine. I just have to make sure to take you home, right? I'll be in the 2nd Music Room. Text me when you're ready to leave and I'll make my way there."

"What?" Raina gasped. "You aren't going to go have fun?"

Mari laughed. " _You_ have fun, Raina. I'll be there if you need me." She dropped her cousin off at the bustling ballroom and made her way to her usual music room in the darkness. Only her heels filled the silence. Walking through the multiple wings of the school already made her ankles cry in pain.

Mari took the key out of her black clutch and unlocked the music room. There was something very eerie about playing in the moonlight. Her gown was one of the many that she had stocked in the back of her closet for performances and competitions. Tonight she wore an emerald green gown, a sweetheart neckline with a simple diamond pendant attached to a silver chain that adorned her collarbones. Her hair was always in a bun, only this time – she made the effort to tame the fly-away strands of hair.

It was an outfit that won her the national title, she remembered. Mari went on to place 3rd on an international level. This year, she hoped to win first place at both competitions.

Her fingers glided over the keys. She listened to the perfectly tuned notes. She spent her whole life perfecting this craft. It was enjoyable – sure, and fulfilling to the degree that she was awarded for her hard work in the form of lowly fame in the community of classical music and prize money.

Mari wondered if she would have to spend the rest of her life to this art. It was lucrative enough that she could play concerts across the world as a professional pianist. Technically, she had already turned professional with her brief stint last summer with the Tokyo Orchestra. She played concerts with them twice a week, practicing daily with the orchestra on her concertos.

This could be her life, forever.

Mari didn't know how to feel about it. But for now, it was all she knew.

Her mentor was an old woman who had settled in Japan after being employed by varying orchestras as the principal pianist. She offered lessons to those who could afford it. Her rate was high, proportional to the experience and the skill she had garnered over decades of playing. But was Louise Wagner was a strict elderly woman that shooed off many of her students for her nitpicky method of teaching.

Mari had begun lessons with her at the age of 5. Within a year, she had Mari playing Czerny exercises for hours on end.

 _If you cannot perfect this by next week, you are not worthy to play the pieces of the greatest composers._

Mari didn't know what the woman meant by the greatest composers, but she knew that she had to learn the studies by the end of the week. There were only 7 letters to know. C-D-E-F-G-A-B. It couldn't be too difficult, right? She had the whole week. It was summer. Mari didn't have any other plans.

 _If you are as so much as a millisecond off beat, you are doing a disservice to this Beethoven masterpiece._

Mari did not understand the term disservice at the age of 8. But she did know that her mentor would not be happy if she kept relying on the metronome.

 _Play this fifty times over, Mari. Play it until you dream of the score in your sleep. Play it until your fingers twitch during the day. Play until your wrists have cramped and you cannot move them._

So she did. She followed the words of her coach to the tee. And each week turned into years, and she became Louise's sole student after a decade.

But with every single passing year, Louise watched Mari grow into the pianist that she had always wanted her to become. She was her star student. Mari was her pride and joy that she had molded.

 _Yes! Yes that's it, Mari. Let your fingers glide through that glissando – lightly, without too much pressure._

 _Louder! Let that fortissimo grow into an abyss. More power. I want to hear that melody ring in my ears._

Mari played like her teacher was right beside her. The pencil scratchings in her score were a mix of her own and her mentor's. It was a miracle that she could even read the notes that were embedded beneath the scribbles.

 _"We must turn you into someone who looks like a classical pianist, Mari._ "

 _"What do you mean?" The 12 year old asked._

 _"You cannot walk onto the stage with a scraggly sweater and sneakers, Mari. And your hair! Your hair is a mess."_

Mari got used to the long gowns. The high heels. The beautifully polished person in the reflection of the piano. It was still her. Refined and sophisticated. She fit the mold of the rich. She was well-mannered, talented, and pretty when she wasn't in her usual comfortable outfit.

 _"You must dress to fit with the rest of the competitors, Mari. We must be on the same playing field. Nothing about you should stick out except for your exceptional skill in playing."_

Sure enough, Mari looked like every other competitor there. Beautiful gown that was simple and never too glamorous. It was the music that required the attention, not the pianist.

 _"I wouldn't enter you in this competition if I didn't think you could win, Mari. And win you did. I'm proud of you. You've worked hard."_

 _The 12 year old nodded. "Thank you for all your work."_

 _"We have a long way to go. This is just the tip of the iceberg, Mari. We will go farther."_

Mari sometimes couldn't believe that she had won two national titles at the age of 16. She stopped abruptly when she heard the door creak open. She turned her head to find someone standing in the shadows.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"I thought you had other things to worry about," the voice was familiar. She could hear the smirk in his voice. He was quoting what she said earlier in the week about the dance.

"I don't appreciate you interrupting my practice, Ootori-san," she shot back. "Don't you have a ridiculous plan to get some couple together at the dance? Something about Haruhi dressing like an actual girl for once."

She was met with silence.

"The walls are stupidly thin," Mari offered in explanation. "For a ridiculously rich school, they couldn't have sound-proofed the damn walls for a music room…" her voice trailed off into a murmur.

"Exactly," the Ootori shot back. "Your piano playing is distracting."

"Shouldn't _you_ be at the dance?" Mari sharply accused. "With all your friends."

"I'd ask you the same thing," Kyouya reciprocated. "But you don't have any friends, do you?"

Mari wanted to throw her shoe at him. She screeched the piano bench against the wooden floors, purposefully annoying him. Mari turned her body towards the door, crossing her legs. The slit in the gown revealed her bare legs and a pair of sharp stilettos.

"What do you _want_?" Mari huffed.

"Peace and quiet."

"Well you aren't getting that here. So go to the library," Mari wanted to smash her palms against the keys. Instead, she pointed her finger towards the direction of the library. It was west of the music rooms. If he wanted peace and quiet, he sure wouldn't be getting any of that now.

"Library is locked," he gritted. He had the key to the 3rd Music Room. And of course, Mari had the key to the 2nd Music Room. The Shadow King was still in his true form, lurking in the shadows.

"Are you telling me the smartest boy in our class can't learn to problem solve?" the musician's patience was waning extremely thin.

"Excuse me?" he roared. The Shadow King came out of the shadows and began walking towards the girl who only crossed her arms.

He looked down at her in the moonlight. The shadows from the light highlighted her sharp collarbones as her dress dipped down against her neckline. Her lips were painted a dark red, a sharp contrast to the emerald green. Her eyes were narrowed at him while her hair, for once, was not a rat's nest. Her pale legs peeked through the silk, with one foot firmly placed on the ground and the other comfortably crossed over her knee.

"You heard me," Mari spat at him.

"You're being exceptionally rude for a lady," the Ootori glared at her. For once, she actually _looked_ like a lady.

"For a lady? What? So are we going to add sexist to the list of awful things about you?"

"Oh, do tell me about this list!" he dared.

Mari stomped and stood against him. He was a head taller than her, even when she was wearing heels. She drew in a deep breath.

"Well if we're going to start from the beginning," she met his eyes. "You're obnoxious. Narcissistic. A constant opportunist. A rich bastard who cares nothing mo—"

"Kyouya! There you are! Our plan was a success! Love triumphs all!" A voice interrupted her. "Oh. Mari-chan! What are you doing here?" Tamaki entered the 2nd music room. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Mari backed away from the Shadow King and turned to the blonde. "I'm waiting for my cousin."

"Raina?"

"Yes. Do you know what time it is?"

"A little past 10, mademoiselle," Tamaki answered. "The event just ended."

"I should go pick her up then. It was nice seeing you, Suoh-san."

Mari turned towards the piano and quickly gathered the book strewn across the surface. She would need them for tomorrow. It was the weekend. She had fitted in a solid 3 hours of practice. It was productive, at least.

"You look wonderful, Mari-chan," Tamaki noted. "It's too bad you weren't at the dance. Right, Kyouya?"

The Shadow King pursed his lips and only glared at her. She shot back the same ice cold expression.

"Good night," her voice curt. She quickly scurried off with her heels disappearing down the hall.

"What was that?" Tamaki asked his friend. "Didn't you find her pretty?"

"Petty is more like it," Kyouya grumbled, rolling his eyes.

* * *

"All of you should prepare for your dissections next week. Please become familiar with the anatomies and organ systems of the rat, frog, and fish."

Kyouya peered over to Mari who was flipping through her biology notes. Her awful drawings of the animals were terrible to follow. Kyouya copied and pasted an anatomical diagram into his notes on his laptop instead. It would be much more helpful.

"You will be dissecting in pairs, conveniently with the same person you share your bench with."

Mari let out a soft exhale. He was bearable to sit beside minus the occasional side eye of him judging the quality of her notes. _Such a jerk._ She thought to herself. They were messy and hell, they looked ugly 90% of the time but they worked fine for her. Mari got by without having the fancy laptop by her side.

"There will be a bell ringer test at the end of the week after you complete all dissections."

Mari noted that down. Kyouya did too. He gave her a glare, as if warning her not to ruin everything next week. She gave him an incredulous look, mouth gaping and eyes narrowed at him.

 _Are you kidding me?_

He looked away and pointed his nose up towards the ceiling. Mari continued to furiously note down the words of their instructor.

 _Memorize: circulatory system, digestive sy—_

The lead of her mechanical pencil broke. She tried again.

 _Memorize: circulatory system, digestive system, nerv—_

Another crack. She gave up and grumbled. It was nearing the end of class anyway and their instructor had stopped speaking by now.

"Is there any other setting on your keyboard that isn't mid-19th century typewriter?" Mari angrily whispered.

The Ootori narrowed his eyes at her.

"Do you have a setting in your brain that lets you take notes more efficiently?"

Mari dropped her jaw. _He didn't just say that._

Kyouya smirked in retaliation, likening the fact that he had rendered Mari speechless. The girl sighed and angrily shut her notebook.

* * *

Mari looked down at her phone as she sat on the piano bench. It happened every once in a while, when her lessons would be cancelled for no apparent reason. She was left sitting at the bench, sighing as she practiced as she usually would.

Only now, she played however she wanted to without the guidance of Louise. An extra long pause for effect, more staccato on the notes she found to bring out the melody, and she used the pedal to her heart's content. Mari played freely for the first time in months.

She usually practiced under rigid rules. Back straight, fingernails clipped to the shortest length for her manicured fingers to look presentable, and her posture as still as possible. She was never a beat off, never a crescendo too large or small, never a moment where she diverged from the score.

Life was simpler when there were rules to follow.

But Mari quite frankly, hated rules. Hated how etiquette required her to use multiple sets of cutlery when she could just eat the entire damn meal with her fork. She hated how dancing was all choreographed steps that only made stepping on toes more frequent than not. She hated how lined paper required writing to be _within_ lines – hell, Mari often wrote _on_ the lines just to prove a point.

She rebelled in the smallest of ways, in however she could. Screw wearing uniforms at school. Screw the idea that the rich couldn't mingle with the commoners – who, she quickly learned, had more common sense than the rich bastards who had been living in a bubble their whole lives.

Her anger powered her through the next few pieces that she had played over and over and over again.

 _You're always pushing at the edge, Mari! Slow down. Play softer. Respect the score, the composer, the rules._ _What are you doing?!_

Mari stopped halfway through the piece and slammed her fingers against the keys. Why did she always have to hear how she _should_ have been playing instead of how she _wanted_ to play? It was always Louise's voice at the back of her mind, conditioning her to play the way that had won her competitions and titles that put her on a pedestal in the world of classical music.

She was alone in this empty mansion. She was the middle child with all the freedom in the world. But Mari chose to spend her weekends perfecting a craft that was outdated and hardly respected beyond the old and rich.

Mari narrowed her eyes at the thought of her piano teacher. She itched to know where the hell Louise was. Hell, the family paid for her to teach her and she would disappear every once in a while for the past decade. It didn't make sense for Mari to sit around like an idiot, like an obedient student that she always had been.

Mari only realized that showing up unannounced would have been rude. It was uncalled for. It wasn't how she was raised. Louise lived in a small home in the city. Mari called her mentor beforehand, hoping for an answer.

There was none.

Mari contemplated leaving. But she had already made it so far. She slung her backpack over her shoulder – it was packed with her piano scores, a pencil case, her wallet, phone, and keys. Her sneakers were scuffed with grass stains, Hana always cut through the Ouran courtyard as a shortcut instead of using the paved paths.

Her hand reached for the gate. Her thin wrist slid through the gaps of the iron bars and unlocked it from the inside. Well, at least it's a safe neighbourhood, Mari thought to herself.

Mari walked up the steps to the door of the home and sighed. She rang the doorbell again. The teenager paced up and down the pews of the porch, looking around – wondering if Louise's neighbours thought of her as an intruder.

Well, she technically _was_ intruding. Some shady ass teenager just casually waiting for a woman who she wasn't even sure was _home_.

Mari knocked on the door this time. "Wagner-san," she softly called out. "It's Mari."

It was silly, now that she thought about it. What was the point of making the trek all the way into the city? She could have used this time to study for her biology dissections. She could have been getting ahead on her English readings. Mari kicked herself. It was a stupid decision. But something didn't make sense.

Why, after all these years, did Mari choose to find out what made her mentor disappear every once in a while? She turned around to leave before she heard some shuffling at the other side of the door. The lock twisted to reveal a woman with bags under her swollen eyes, hair mussed up as if she had been pulling them out of her scalp, and her expression was of one that Mari couldn't even describe.

"What… are you doing here?" Louise croaked. She had been crying.

"I… I—" Mari blinked. She had never seen her mentor looking like this before. Forlorn and depressed. Her body looking so frail that she could fall apart at any second. "I wanted to know if you were okay."

"I'm… fine." It was obviously a lie.

"Can I come in?" Mari cautiously asked.

* * *

Mari took the scalpel in her hands and began making the cuts through the fish.

"It's _below_ the stomach," the Ootori pointed out.

"And the cut _is_ below the stomach," Mari shot back.

"Well, no—"

Mari wanted to throw the scalpel at him so the Ootori could to it himself. But instead, the boy took the scalpel out of her hands without even asking.

" _Smooth_ cuts," Mari critiqued. "Did you have too much caffeine? Your hands are shaky."

"They're fine," the Ootori's tone was sharp. He had to admit, his cuts were a little more rigid. Her slim fingers had much more control than he did. But Kyouya was never going to admit that.

He handed the scalpel back to her wordlessly, and when he didn't feel the tug of her fingers in taking back the knife he looked up. She was distracted, with her eyes still on the fish but in a daze.

"If you aren't going to pay attention then you might as well sit down and let me do it all," the Ootori scoffed.

"Shut up," she grabbed the scalpel away from him and huffed. She continued with the next step, flipping open the body of the animal.

* * *

Mari walked into home. Not a single thing was out of place. Every single piano record, score, and pencil was organized in its rightful place. A grand piano took up most of the living space. Tissues were strewn on the couch. A blanket was strewn on the edge of the leather seat, half spewed onto the cold wooden floors.

"What's wrong?" Mari whispered, almost afraid to ask.

She was met with a waterfall of tears. Mari's legs were frozen, still in shock to see her mentor so frail and broken. She slowly crouched down to Louise's eye level, patting her mentor's shoulder. Mari waited until Louise could finally gather the words to speak.

"I… I have these days where… I can't control my emotions." The woman's head was down, her eyes glued to the ground, her voice weak.

"O…okay," Mari blinked.

"It lasts a few days, sometimes a week…"

Mari sat on the floor, taking off her backpack.

"I'm… going to get some water for you."

Louise sniffled and nodded.

* * *

Kyouya watched as Mari pried the skeleton off the muscles of the body. Her touch was delicate, her cuts precise. Her fingers moved at the utmost speed, under the watchful eye of the Ootori.

"I hope you're taking notes and pictures of this dissection," she reminded.

"I am," he told her. "I'm filling out the worksheet to hand in for us."

"You better," Mari grumbled. "Let me look over that."

Her eyes scanned over his neat handwriting. Her gloved fingers were still handling fish guts but her brain was slowly trying to make sense of the completed deliverable.

"Wait, is that right? Question 5."

"Of course it's right," the Ootori narrowed his eyes.

Mari looked back at the dissected fish parts in front of her.

"The ovary isn't the stomach, Ootori-san." Mari demonstrated this by making a small incision into the sac and revealing the eggs of the fish.

The Ootori pursed his lips.

"God, did you write it in _pen_?" Mari rolled her eyes.

"I have white-out," he gritted his teeth.

"Just cross it out and write ovary."

"No, that looks—"  
"Ugly?"

"Unprofessional," he corrected. "It should look flawless."

* * *

She walked into the kitchen, looking in the cabinets to find a glass. All of the plates, cutlery sets, and cups were an off-white ceramic. Everything in this home was matched to the tee. Mari wondered what kind of dedication it would have taken for her mentor to go through the trouble of doing such a thing, and if it even mattered all that much to begin with.

Mari walked into the living room again to find Louise slumped on the couch, tears flooding down her face with her eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," she croaked. "I… I didn't think anyone would come visit. Or care, really."

"It's okay," Mari kept her voice down. Her slim fingers handed over the mug carefully. "Do you need anything else?"

Louise shook her head.

"Go," she shooed away her student. "I'm a burden. Go home."

"No, it's… it's okay," Mari sat on the love seat beside the couch. "I can stay."

* * *

Mari stared at him for a second, judging Kyouya for how anal he could be about one little detail. The Ootori could tell from the look on her face and he rolled his eyes.

"Some people say I have OCD," the Ootori muttered. It was mostly the Host Club that said so. He was a perfectionist. He had high standards. Kyouya could care less about people's judgement when he excelled all expectations. He was better.

"You have no idea what OCD actually looks like," Mari sharply told him. OCD was debilitating. Mari learned over the weekend that mental illness was something that she would ever dismiss. "Being a perfectionist is different…" she murmured.

"Thanks," the Ootori smirked.

"Wasn't a compliment. It's a flaw of yours, if you didn't realize," the girl rolled her eyes.

Mari took off her gloves and grabbed their worksheet. She crossed out the mistake and wrote in the correct answer. It didn't matter how the worksheet looked, so long as the answers were correct and their grades were acceptable. Mari ruined his perfect little paper and threw it back at him.

"Live a little, won't you?" Mari suggested.

"I refuse to live sloppily like you," the Ootori frowned at their ruined worksheet. This was far from presentable now.

Mari groaned. "Whatever. I'll do the worksheet next time. You dissect."

"I'd rather you not," the Ootori rolled his eyes. "I don't trust you."

* * *

She sat there for hours with her mentor. The whole afternoon gone. The sun set quickly and suddenly Mari was sitting in the dark, watching her mentor swing back and forth between crying and having bouts of sobriety to handle a conversation with her.

"Have you… talked to anyone about this?" Mari wasn't sure if this was too personal to delve into.

"I have medication," Louise's voice was even for the first time in hours.

"Where is it?" Mari got up to retrieve it.

"I've already taken them." Her mentor sighed, closing her eyes and trying to massage them. They were dried out from all the tears that had flooded over her cheeks in the past few hours.

"Oh…" the student sat back down, unsure of how to help or what to do.

Mari curled her legs into the seat, waiting for her Louise to return back to normal – if at all possible today. She grew comfortable, sitting and looking around her surroundings.

"It's bipolar disorder," Louise explained with her fingers against the temples of her head. "The highs are high and the lows are… very, very low. Abysmal, actually. Add in OCD on the regular days and…" the woman sighed.

"Were you triggered by… anything?" Mari wondered.

"Sometimes. Not always," her mentor answered.

"Do you… get suicidal?"

"Yes."

Mari let that sink in before taking a deep breath. She would be lying if that statement didn't terrify her.

"Can I do anything to help you?"

"No. Not really, Mari."

"Oh," the disappointment in her student's voice was hard to miss. Mari was at a loss of words, never have dealt with such a scenario in her entire life. "Do you still want me to stay? I… I can do that for you."

There was no answer.

Mari stayed anyway.

* * *

The young pianist found it difficult to focus.

 _"Will you be alright?"_

" _Yes, Mari. The feeling comes and goes."_

Mari looked at the piano score again. Her eyes drawn to the red markings that her teacher wrote in while the pencil marks were her own. It made sense to her – all the chaos beneath the writing, the scribbling, the reminders. But what happened over the weekend weighed on her more so than she liked.

She had known Louise for over an entire decade and not knowing such an integral part of her life was still a shock. Mari sighed and dialed a number on her phone.

 _The number you have reached is unavailab—_

Of course her mother wouldn't pick up the phone. Mari doubted that she knew anything about her teacher's mental struggles to begin with.

Mari closed the score perched on top of the piano. She would be yelled at for not being able to memorize the Mendelssohn piece on the weekend, but she wasn't in any mood to practice for now anyway. She listened to the noise of the Host Club filter through the thin walls instead. Distinct voices of laughter was always heard, with footsteps of running and some muffled yelling.

They always seemed to have fun. A part of Mari was envious. It wasn't that Mari hadn't had friends of her own – but all of them had to commute far and across the city, and keeping up with the Ouran curriculum was hard enough as is.

Mari sighed.

 _I believe your friends wouldn't appreciate you lying to their face about your family background._

God, she hated his voice. He spoke like a robot. He never stopped to irritate her in every way possible.

In any case, it wasn't that she _lied_. Not directly. But it still made her feel uncomfortable. Her friends shared their lunches with her. They shared answers on quiz questions and helped each other on assignments. They laughed at the antics of the rich. Mari never felt like she didn't belong.

Yet Kyouya made her seem like she was living a lie and she couldn't help but to wonder, if she had been on the other side of the music room with the Host Club – if her place was just to be another socialite, since being an heiress wasn't an option.

Mari packed up her bag and exited the music room, refusing to listen to the shenanigans of the Host Club any longer.

* * *

Kyouya looked outside the Victorian windows and huffed at the sight of pouring rain. It would be a hassle to walk outside to wait for his ride home now. The Shadow King carefully packed his laptop into a waterproof case, and into his briefcase that contained only the essentials: keys, wallet, phone, a padfolio, and a small pencil case.

He knew that Mari had left earlier than he did, noting the lack of piano playing through the walls. _Good riddance,_ he thought to himself. It was hard enough spending his day as her lab partner, much less having to deal with her outside of class.

Kyouya made his way towards the alcove of the school entrance, hoping to shield himself from the pouring rain. A quiet melody echoed through the halls, and before he knew it, his legs stopped right in their tracks.

 _With only sugar-coated words and phrases,_

 _Talking seems to have lost its taste._

 _I just don't find such things intriguing._

It was a sweet voice. It carried a quiet melody, in the midst of a bit of humming. Kyouya poked his head around the corner to find someone sitting against the pillar, head bobbing to the beat and their earbuds in.

 _Just because everything is falling apart,_

 _Doesn't make our lives any more dispensable._

The voice grew louder, the pitch steady. Their long black hair swayed with the wind of the rain. She was uniform-less.

 _Oh._ Kyouya realized. It was Mari. How could someone so vile have such a beautiful voice? He shrugged. It made logical sense: she was a musician and she was easily trained to be in tune. It became a lot less impressive now, given Mari's profession. Kyouya rolled his eyes, but he still wouldn't reveal his presence behind her.

Mari flinched out of fear and let a low pitched growl. She could have sworn she saw a figure walk down the hall in her peripheral vision but she didn't expect it to be the goddamn _Ootori_ standing there like a stalker. Mari narrowed her eyes and glared at her classmate.

"What the hell?" She snatched the earbuds out of her ear. "You couldn't have at least said hi?" She was furious.

"You were occupied," The Ootori didn't lose his cool and instead, perched up his glasses.

She rolled her eyes at him. "God, you're such a prick."

"Excuse me?" Kyouya found this offensive – hell, he was just standing there! What could he have possibly done to irritate her?

"Sneaking up on people and not even bothering to apologize," she grumbled.

"I believe I should be the one who is owed an apology," the Ootori pointed out. "I was just called a prick, after all."

She scoffed. "I don't appreciate being snuck up upon, okay? It's creepy. I don't care if they call you the Shadow King – lurking in the shadows is weird."

"Hanging with commoners is also _weird_ ," he shot back.

"My friends are much more normal than yours," Mari defended. "Why do you hate commoners so much? Haruhi is a commoner."

"You're trying to be something you are not," Kyouya rolled his eyes, noting her baggy hoodie and jeans. Her sneakers had grass stains on them and her hair was tied in a low ponytail, already loosening to create a messy rat's nest that sat atop of her head. She looked like a homeless person.

Mari frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What is it with the rich and all of this classism? Do you not realize how ignorant you all sound when you look down upon anyone less than the 1%?"

The Ootori raised his eyebrow at Mari, unamused by her naivete.

"Lineage comes first, wealth a close second," Kyouya quoted. "For you to be mingling with those with lower linea—"

"They are not _lower_ by any means!" Mari argued.

"Well, I suppose that is true," the Ootori shrugged. "Your family's pedigree is much closer to the commons than us."

Mari blinked at the audacity of the boy who stood before her.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you," she huffed. "It's like talking to a wall."

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "I would say the same."

Only the pitter pattering of the rain filled the tension between the two students. Mari crossed her arms and shook her head.

"Unbearable," she whispered to herself.

"The feeling is mutual," the Ootori shot back.

"How could you be so…" Mari tilted her head, almost in awe. "How can the rich be so _dense_ to the rest of the world? And so stubborn in their ways…"

"No one asked you to be a social justice warrior," the Ootori rolled his eyes. "This is just how the world works."

Mari opened her mouth and shut it immediately.

"You… really suck," she huffed and crossed her arms.

"Very mature of you," the Ootori smirked, knowing fully well that he won this argument. She was naïve. The Ootori was a realist. And Mari was just another rich girl, pretending she knew everything about the world when she didn't.

* * *

 **A/N:** A true throwback is Utada Hikaru's song: "Flavour of Life" (the Ballad version) featured in this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mari grew up in a loving family. Two siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister. Parents who provided her with more than enough opportunity. Family vacations to Europe, to the Americas, and around the Pacific. Their real estate business was booming and was on track for even greater growth.

It attracted the attention of other families, of course. Enough such that her brother was set to inherit the family business and suddenly his marriage prospects were higher than ever.

"Do you like her?" Mari asked.

"Yeah, she's very nice," Kanda answered while adjusting his tie. "It would be good for both our families."

Mari blinked. "Yeah, business would be good. But... are you happy?" she pressed on. Her brother was finishing up his last year of university. He was 5 years older than her. Kanda was a good brother. He looked out for her, took her out for food, watched movies, went to her concerts, and hung out with her whenever he had the time. Only now, time was scarce for him. Mari felt like Kanda had outgrown her many years ago.

Kanda laughed. "She's sweet, and very pretty. We've known each other since we were in Ouran and get along nicely. I don't know what else I could ask for."

Mari felt uneasy about her brother's arranged marriage. She had only met his fiancée a handful of times. The younger sister could confirm that her future sister-in-law was kind, smart, and fit the cookie-cutter standard of being a wonderful addition to the family for the rich. Her family was far from famous, but Mari wouldn't be surprised if Kanda took the name of their family to even greater heights.

"I don't know either," Mari sighed. "I just… don't like rules."

"You never did," Kanda smiled. "Don't worry too much, Mari. I'm happy. Emi is a good fit for me, and our family."

"Yeah, I know," the younger sister nodded. "She's lovely."

Mari fiddled with the skirt of her dress, wondering if her hair was alright. Her nails were done nicely, of course. Her eyelashes weighed heavily on top of her eyes, nearly blurring her vision with the pile of fake hairs that she was told would _open up the eyes_ by the makeup artist.

"You really _are_ happy though, right?" Mari asked again to her brother who was in the midst of putting on the cuff links of his suit. It was his engagement party.

"Yes," he reassured again. Kanda smiled at his little sister for her concern. "Mari, I've always wanted to inherit the company. Emi is just another part of the process and we both have a mutual understanding."

"But… do you… _love_ her?" the younger sister felt so stupid saying the word out loud.

The older brother shrugged. "In due time, I suppose I will learn to love her."

Mari looked down at the skirt of her blush pink chiffon dress. It would flow beautifully in the wind on the beaches of the resort in Okinawa. But they were indoors, in heavy AC, and her hair was probably falling apart from all times she touched it.

"Okay," Mari sighed, feeling defeated for some reason. "Alright. Let's go celebrate your engagement."

* * *

Kyouya sat back at the resort of the beach in Okinawa, watching his friends try to scare Haruhi at the prize of middle school photos that he had found through a little bit of digging online. He steered the Host Club clear of the reception area of the resort due to an event, making sure that all of the shenanigans were outdoors on the sandy beach.

It was some engagement party – not surprising, given the summer months and that his family's high-class resort was a great venue for such events. The Ootori squinted closer to the names. _In celebration of Emi Asahi and Kanda Takuya_ , he read off the signage in front of the banquet hall.

The Asahi family had a significant amount of developments that rivaled the Takuya family. It was a strategic move on both their companies.

It dawned upon him that it was the same Takuya family that _Mari_ was a part of. He shuddered to himself. He had enough of her at school as is, and to see her outside of the classroom was something he preferred to avoid. Kyouya stepped outside, letting the event unravel on its own. The staff of the resort was more than capable at keeping things running smoothly.

The Ootori settled in an area for gold star members, reserved for the highest paying patrons. It was an outdoor lounge that overlooked the beach, giving him a full view of the rest of the members of the Host Club. He sat on the patio at a table all for himself, a large umbrella provided comfortable shade for him and his cup of black coffee that he enjoyed immensely on his own.

Peace and quiet.

Just how he liked it.

 _I searched for you in a place where light can't reach  
Even if I can't really support you, I'll still make you smile_

His ears perked up at the singing voice. Kyouya looked around the area, finding no one around him. _Strange_ , he thought to himself. The voice continued, softly at first and with more volume as the song progressed. He quietly got up from his seat, automatically drawn to the melody.

He could see the figure, their back leaning against the beach chair tilted to a comfortable angle. He squinted to find sunglasses perched on top of their head as they enjoyed the shade beneath the umbrella. Their legs were spread across the length of the comfortable padding, crossed at the ankles. High strappy heels were carelessly kicked to the side.

The Ootori cleared his throat as he approached the mystery person from the back.

"This area is for gold star members only."

"Holy shit," they jumped, obviously not expecting someone to interrupt their time. Sunglasses fell off the top of their head as the person scrambled to sit upright.

He made eye contact with her brown eyes, the fierce look was something he would never fail to recognize. It was _her_.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Mari narrowed her eyes. God, why was he _everywhere_? She couldn't even last one month without seeing the boy outside of class. As if being lab partners wasn't enough punishment to begin with.  
"I believe I should be asking you that question," the Ootori raised an eyebrow.

"What? Like your family owns this place or something?!" Mari groaned.

The Ootori was unamused. "My family _does_ own the resort."

Mari blinked. "Well then." She aggressively took out the gold member card that doubled as her hotel room key. "Here. Happy?"

The Ootori perched his glasses up his nose after glancing at her proof of payment. "Shouldn't you be at your brother's engagement party?"

Mari put the card back into her cardholder and crossed her arms. "I did my part," she answered. She played a piano piece. People clapped. They commented on how much she had grown. Then Mari left because the heels were killing her feet. No one cared about the middle child, really.

"Don't you have to go babysit your friends?" Mari rolled her eyes. She could see them running across the beach, yelling at each other and playfully dunking their heads in the water. "Well, I guess this view helps you keep an eye on all five of them."

Kyouya blinked. "Five?"

"Yeah, I don't see Haruhi," Mari answered, squinting her eyes across the horizon. "Did you lose a kid?"

The Ootori didn't answer.

"Well shit," the girl chuckled. "What a terrible parent you are, I guess." Mari crossed her arms and leaned back on the chair. There was a few minutes of silence from the Ootori before Mari sat upright and began looking for Haruhi as well. It wasn't often that the Ootori was worried, if his silence and lack of offense was of any indication. Mari had never seen this side to the Shadow King. The girl stepped into the sunlight, shielding her eyes from the rays with her hand.

"Is she on that cliff?" Mari pointed out.

The Ootori stood beside Mari, also squinting in an attempt to see what was going on.

"Is she getting thrown off the cliff?! Go help her," the girl jabbed the Ootori's arm. "Help your friend."

Kyouya watched as Tamaki dove into the sea to rescue their commoner friend. "Seems like Tamaki is on it."

Mari narrowed her eyes. "Couldn't you be more concerned about Haruhi? Send a first aid team, at least."

The two watched the ruckus unfold. Haruhi recovered just fine, though both of them watched as Tamaki fought over Haruhi's recklessness. Mari shook her head.

"At least she's okay," she murmured.  
"Tamaki was right," the Ootori admitted. "She shouldn't have been so careless."

"She was doing the right thing," Mari argued.

"Doing the right thing doesn't mean you have to do it in a stupid manner," Kyouya argued back. "We were all concerned."

Mari blinked and looked up at him. He was dressed in a regular dress shirt with casual khaki shorts. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was human, and even worse, the fact that he had actual friends who cared about him and vice versa. It was so much easier to just _hate_ him for what he was. Mari refused to let this one incident change her opinion on the Shadow King. He was still an obnoxious asshole.

"What?" he narrowed his eyes when he noticed her staring up at him.

"Nothing," Mari looked away. Her sunglasses were somewhere on the ground and Mari desperately needed them while the sun was in her eyes.

"Were you enjoying the view?" he smirked.

Mari found her sunglasses and threw them at Kyouya. "What view?"

He caught them easily before they hit his chest. "This is assault. I have a private police force too, you know."

"Well, I sure hope they provide better customer service than you," Mari snarled. "Kicking out a gold-star member out of the lounge is unacceptable."

"My apologies," he sarcastically responded. "Allow me to provide you a complementary half hour of hosting."

"Oh god," Mari rolled her eyes. " _Please_ spare me."

The Ootori smirked to himself.

"Can you get me a coffee though?" Mari quietly asked, testing the waters. She could use some caffeine. There was another reception in the evening. "Charge it to my card, or whatever. Thank goodness I can afford your ridiculous prices."

The Ootori raised an eyebrow. He could get her a coffee. Redemption for what she considered _poor customer service._ "How do you take your coffee?" He gestured to the service person that worked at the desk of the lounge.

"Black," Mari answered.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow in surprise. He always assumed that she dumped a ridiculous amount of sugar and cream – the uncultured way to drink coffee. Two cups of their finest dark roast coffee came within 10 minutes. He handed it to her gingerly from the servicer, unsure of how she would react. Mari looked at him with widened eyes, surprised at the fact that he actually fulfilled her request. They locked eyes for a brief moment, both weary of this brief truce.

"Thank you," she softly said. Her fingers met his as he passed off the coffee to her. Mari took a small sip. Her shoulders relaxed at the first sip of coffee, and her eyes closed at the full bodied flavour. It was delicious.

Kyouya blinked and tilted his head at her in confusion. He had always known her to be so unpredictable, hot-headed, and irritated. Her eyelashes fluttered with her lids as she took another sip. A part of him had to admit that she was pretty, but only when she wasn't busy throwing icy glares at him.

"Good quality coffee. You're forgiven," Mari quietly told him. "I'll finish this cup and I'll be on my way. I won't bother you." She was after all, a reasonable person – and who knows, maybe going back to the engagement party wouldn't be so terrible. She could slip into the background without any issue.

Kyouya exhaled. He couldn't technically do that to a paying customer.

"It's fine, you are allowed to stay," the Ootori grumbled, looking away to the horizon of the beach. He took a sip of his second cup of coffee.

"You aren't so bad," Mari admitted. "When you care, I mean. But I've only seen you care about people a grand total of one time, so. Who knows. Maybe this is the nicest you'll ever be to me."

"I don't _care_ ," he denied, narrowing his eyes.

Mari raised an eyebrow at him. "Whatever."

The Ootori put down his coffee. He shifted to another topic. "Why did you leave your brother's engagement party?"

"My feet were killing me," Mari answered nonchalantly. "See?" She wiggled her toes in freedom. Her toenails were painted white to contrast against the grey leather heels. He looked at her in disgust.

"Unladylike," he rolled his eyes. "No wonder why you were kicked out of the party."

Mari took another sip of her coffee to calm down. _He got you a coffee. Let him live today._ The pianist shot him a glare instead and rolled her eyes.

"I just hope he's making the right choice," she admitted.

"It's a good business move," the Ootori offered in comfort.

Mari sighed. "Is that all there is to life? Rules to follow? Good business ventures? The whole process of marriage seems like a waste of time if you are only going to do it for a business partnership."

"That's just how the world works," Kyouya scoffed. "Learn to play the game, Mari."

 _Mari._

Kyouya accidentally let go of the honorifics. The Ootori bit his tongue. He couldn't take it back now. The girl noticed, of course.

"Kyouya," she tested the name cautiously.

He raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't bite at the dropped honorific, either.

"Alright then," she shrugged. "I can live with that."

The Ootori exhaled in relaxation, drinking more of his coffee. They weren't _that_ close. But they did survive a semester of being lab partners, and she was satisfactory as one. He was unbearable with his stupidly annoying habits of being a perfectionist, and she often missed the small details in their reports but they worked well enough to score the top grade in the class.

"You look nice," Kyouya smoothly diverted the topic and reverting into his regular host attitude. The skirt of her dress flowed in the wind, revealing her legs and bare feet. He cringed at the fact that she walked around in just her feet. Thank goodness his resort was spotlessly clean. Her hair was in a loose bun, and her makeup was done flawlessly. "You know, when you clean up and dress less like a commoner."

Mari bit her tongue. She forgot how annoying he could be with his backhanded compliments. "I prefer comfort over style."

"Doesn't reflect well on your family's reputation," the Ootori pointed out.

Mari chuckled. "I'm the middle child. People forget I exist. I'm not too worried about my family's reputation. Kanda has that part covered."

She had a point there. Mari had no chance of being the heiress to the family's business, even if she tried. She was a girl. Her main talent was playing the piano. She was much more suited as a marriage prospect than an heiress.

"Hey, don't you have a fiancée?" Mari smirked, diverting the attention back to the host. It was the talk of the school before summer vacation. "Where's Renge?" The girl looked around, half-expecting the girl to pop up out of nowhere.

The Ootori pursed his lips and shot her a glare. "She's _not_ my fiancée. Just some… _lunatic,_ " he shuddered. "Would rather be married to a rock than her."

"Honestly, you'd be the rock," the pianist pointed out. "You're boring."

"Whatever," the Ootori grumbled. "Being a CEO is more exciting than being a professional pianist."

Mari scoffed. "Who says I'll end up being a pianist forever?" They were back to their bickering selves.

"Well, you _are_ internationally acclaimed," Kyouya pointed out. "You turned professional last year when you played with the Tokyo Orchestra."  
"How did you know that?" the pianist blinked. Sure, she had a music scholarship but Mari never told anyone about her achievements. She was invited back again this summer, for the last month of their summer vacation.

"I know a lot of things, Mari," the Ootori smiled devilishly.

She didn't question it. The Ootori was certainly more capable than she was on many levels. They only fought because he was an asshole for a good majority of high school, and he was nothing more than every other rich snob.

But this was likely the longest conversation they ever had without wanting to gut each other's throats. Mari likened it to the coffee, it had to be a mutual appreciation for the coffee that somehow calmed both of them down and increased their tolerance for each other.

"There's no guarantee that you'll be CEO either," Mari murmured. "Right?" As the third son of the Ootori family, he had a long way to go. Everyone knew this.

The Ootori took a sip of his coffee, refusing to answer that question.

"I believe in you," Mari quietly told him. "Even if you are an asshole most of the time. And don't get me wrong, you're still a bastard. But you work hard." She spent a semester working with him, after all. His intelligence was a by product of his determination and work ethic. Mari had to sacrifice studying for practicing the piano, but her academic standards were nowhere near as stringent as his.

"I don't need it," the Ootori brushed off.

"Wow, okay—" Mari rolled her eyes, taking offense. "Forgive me for trying to encourage you against an uphill battle," the sarcasm in her voice dripped with every word. She almost forgot that she still hated him with every fibre of her body.

"You don't have to fight for what you want. Your life is simple," he rolled his eyes at her. "You'll never understand."

Mari let those words sink in.

"My life is simple because I am an afterthought," Mari corrected. It wasn't like _he_ would understand being forgotten – especially as an Ootori. He had the eyes of the entire country on him, especially those in the world of business. "I have all the freedom in the world to be whatever I want to be and no one would care."

"And what do you want to be?" Kyouya asked.

He was met with silence.

"I don't know yet," Mari sighed. "Was hoping to cross that bridge when the time comes."

"Soon," Kyouya reminded. They were going into their last year of high school.

"Yeah. BBA at Harvard for you?" Mari guessed.

The Ootori raised an eyebrow.

"My brother is graduating from the same program," the pianist explained. "Not surprising that you would be interested in it too."

"Oh." Of course, that made sense. Such an obvious reason and Kyouya missed it. He sounded rather dumb before he moved onto shifting the topic to her. "Julliard for you then?"

Mari sighed again. Something about that path unsettled her. "Yeah. That would be the logical step, I suppose."

She was a musician. He was a businessman. Their paths were already carved out for them. And maybe, that was all she was meant to be.

* * *

Summer break was 2 months long. It gave Mari plenty of time to perfect her craft, with lessons that spanned three times a week. They were long and intense, but they prepared her well for every performance. They had been preparing since January, after all.

Mari made a decent amount of money playing with the orchestra over the summer. It was a brief stint, a couple weeks long – but people paid good money to listen to the orchestra and she could not complain. It was a job that passed the time, and quite frankly, Mari did not mind it one bit.

Like a robot, Mari was trained to play her concertos with the utmost accuracy and precision. It was in the middle of practice before her phone vibrated against the polished wood. The pianist ignored it at first, hoping to finish the end of the movement before taking a look but her concentration had already been broken and she missed the next beat.

"Hello?" Mari picked up the phone near the end of its span of ringing.

"I can't," the voice wailed. Sobbing on the other line.

"What?" the teenager looked at her phone. It was from an unknown number. "What do you mean?"

"You'll," Hiccup. More sniffling. A struggle to catch their breath. "Be fine," they stuttered.

The teenager blinked. "Louise?"

"Goodbye."

Mari took a few seconds before she bolted out the door of the performance centre. She hopped on the nearest subway station and ran. Within an hour, Mari was at her mentor's doorstep, ringing the doorbell frantically.

"Please open the door," Mari pleaded. "Just let me know you're in there."

 _Oh my god, what do I do?_ She thought to herself.

Mari tried again. She banged more aggressively on the door. She called for her teacher. Mari tried her mentor's cell phone. No answer. She dialled the unknown number that called her.

She could hear the faint ringing of a landline indoors.

Mari took a deep breath. What was the most logical thing to do?

She dialled an emergency line.

"What's your emergency?"

"I um, I think… I don't know for sure but – I think my teacher might not be… in the best mental state," Mari couldn't think of the right words.

"What do you mean?"

"She could be suicidal and I can't get into her house," her words jumbled together. Mari's eyes were on the verge of tears.

The teenager wondered if she could climb in through the windows. She tapped against the glass panes. No answer. She walked around the perimeter of the home – no openings. The curtains were drawn. There was no sign of anyone in there.

 _But she had to be,_ Mari thought. Louise had to be inside. She called from the landline – the number that she didn't recognize on her phone.

Mari didn't realize that dialling emergency services would entail the entire fire department, police, and ambulance. The police held her back from entering the premises after they had gotten the door open.

"We need to make sure the coast is clear."

"She isn't dangerous," Mari explained. "I was just worried for—" The girl watched as paramedics rushed into the home. "What's happening? Can someone tell me what's going on?"

* * *

Mari blinked.

"What do you mean she has no family?" she asked the nurse. Mari had never really been in a hospital. In fact, she had no idea how these things even worked. Was she allowed to sign forms? Was she now a guardian at the age of 17? That couldn't have been legal, right? Where was the adult that she needed so desperately right now?

"It is what it is," the nurse explained. "Do you know anyone?"

"Actually… no," Mari admitted. "She never talked about family, or… friends."

"May I know your relationship with the patient?"

"I'm her student."

The nurse nodded. "Are you of legal age?"

"No," Mari admitted. "I'm not."

The employee frowned. Mari was not helpful.

"Can you at least tell me what's going on?" the teenager pleaded.

"She just had her stomach pumped," the nurse sighed. "Not sure about the consequences yet, so we will just have to wait and see."

Mari nodded slowly. "How long?"

"A few more tests. Give her a few days to come around."

* * *

Mari looked at the scores that aligned the shelves.

The place was spotless. White. Grey. More white. It was eerie standing in the place of her mentor.

Louise Wagner had no family. No friends. Nobody.

No legal will. The money and her assets were stuck in limbo. Mari had no legal means of touching any of it.

It was a good thing she made money from her job then, she thought. How does one plan a funeral? Mari wondered if she could search online for it. How much did it cost?

Better yet, Mari wondered if she needed therapy. Or some kind of counselling. It didn't hit her that her mentor was legally declared brain-dead. Mari was numb. Confused. Unsure of what to feel. Empty. Scared. Sad.

What was she going to do?

Mari had no idea.

She looked around and sat at the grand piano. Of course, the bench naturally drew her in. It was familiar. The light filtered through the curtains to hit the ridge of where the music was kept. Louise kept the exact same score that Mari did, studying it on her own while Mari did the same. She cracked open the book of Czerny studies, the ones that she began playing as a young child, to find a letter.

 _Carry on the legacy, Mari._

 _\- Louise_

* * *

Kyouya wondered if anyone bothered to check the online bulletin boards of their school website. The new academic term rolled around and he of course, settled into this regular position as class president arriving to homeroom at the earliest time.

 _Music scholarship student Mari Takuya wins first place in the Yamaha National Piano Competition and will proceed to represent Japan on the International level in December. Congratulations, Mari!_

Of course, the Ootori didn't expect anything less. Mari was becoming the talk of the classical music sphere. A quick online search had her name popping up with the Tokyo Orchestra, her set list for the national competition, and many articles which speculated a falling out between her and her mentor, Louise Wagner.

She slid open the homeroom doors with a scowl on her face and her travel mug in her hand. Mari was back to her usual outfit: baggy sweater, jeans, grass-stained sneakers, topped off with a loose ponytail. The Ootori wanted to groan at the eyesore. She walked to her usual seat near the back of the classroom, the waft of her black coffee tempting him.

Kyouya listened to her friends catch up with her over the summer.

 _"So what did you do this summer?"_ Mari's friend asked.

The pianist shrugged and sighed. " _The usual."_

 _"Working?"_

 _"Yeah… working. For the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra,"_ she clarified.

 _"Wow! That's so cool! You did that last year too, huh. Must be cool working in the box office or something."_

Mari nodded and gave a small smile, then diverted the topic elsewhere. Her friends were not aware that she was a music scholarship student. _"Tell me about your trip to Kyoto this summer, Aki."_

Mari spent less time socializing and more time playing the piano during her lunches. The Ootori couldn't pinpoint what – but something about Mari had changed. The fire in her eyes was no longer directed at him. It was at _everything_. The quizzes that they took. The tests that they wrote. Every assignment that was handed back, she shoved them into her backpack and ran straight to the music room.

Mari's grades rivalled his by the middle of the semester. Quite frankly, the Ootori didn't think that the girl even had it in her to pull up her grades. She went from mediocre to being top 5 in their entire grade.

She was trailing behind Tamaki by half a percent. And Tamaki was only 1 percent behind him.

Mari came into their homeroom class every morning with a scowl and bags beneath her eyes that were deeper every day. Mari stayed behind later than he did after the Host Club to practice and the Ootori noticed because the piano playing felt endless.

Mari took off two weeks in December for Internationals, completing every assignment and assessment beforehand. By January, Kyouya noted another bulletin posting.

 _Scholarship student Mari Takuya wins first place in Vienna, representing Japan in the International Competition of Young Pianists. Congratulations, Mari!_

And then, silence.

He never heard her play the piano ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kyouya caught Mari coming out of the medical wing of the academy after the annual physicals. It was a profitable time for the entire Host Club, but the event had passed and Mari seemed like she had no visible injuries. Kyouya had gone over to the medical wing to ensure that Haruhi's documents were kept confidential – after all, their business plan depended on her.

"Your next appointment will be on Monday," the receptionist reminded.

"Yes, thank you," she curtly responded. Mari exited the office, running into the Ootori. They made eye contact and parted ways.

He was curious about her. They coincidentally found themselves hanging around the main gates, waiting for their ride home after a day of school. Mari leaned her back against the wall, coolly ignoring the Ootori. She was too tired to argue.

They were lab partners again, only that it was for chemistry this year. They learned to keep their bickering to a minimum – after all, they both needed high grades. It was mutually beneficial to tolerate each other.

Kyouya cleared his throat.

"Haven't seen you around the music room much," he tried.

"You just saw me at the medical wing," Mari bluntly called him out.

The Ootori nodded. "Are you alright?"

"No," Mari shook her head.

"Oh," Kyouya dumbly responded.

"Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers for," Mari murmured. She learned the lesson the hard way.

"I was trying to—"

"Act concerned, I know," she cut him off. "I don't need your concern." Her voice came off colder than she intended.

* * *

"Did winning the international title bring closure?"

Mari blinked. "I don't know. Was it supposed to? Did I carry on the legacy that she had always intended? It still doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it… feel _right_?"

It had been months since the death of her mentor.

"Mari, I think it's because you haven't taken the time to properly grieve – you ended up distracting yourself with your school work and your piano practice instead of processing her death."

The teenager crossed her arms. "I just don't understand why my brain doesn't let me just… _move on._ "

"The feeling of loss is—"

"Normal, I know," Mari huffed. She didn't want to cry. Not again. Not for the umpteenth time this year. "Counselling is supposed to help, or whatever. I don't know. Maybe I'm messed up. I don't know what to feel. I just know I feel like shit."

* * *

 _I don't need your concern._

She was infuriating, as usual. The Ootori frowned at the thought of her brushing him off. It bothered him that the one time he _tried_ to care, she accused him of being disingenuous. He stared at the file that she sent over a few minutes ago, with her completed side of the lab report.

He had to admit, the quality of her work skyrocketed. The Ootori hardly ever found mistakes. The precision in her measurements and data analysis was on par to his. He appreciated her as a lab partner, but as a _person_ – it made his blood boil over.

And to think that they were on decent terms over the summer – he was mistaken. They squabbled over the right methods to perform the experiments, they double, no – tripled checked each other's work because of their deep rooted distrust in one another.

But still – she was a good partner. He respected her work ethic, and she was becoming a rival to him in terms of academics. It was a little bit concerning, but nonetheless, he wasn't expecting Mari to be on his level by any means.

His curiosity itched to know what changed. What made this sudden shift into a Mari that he could no longer overlook as an academic peer?

And why did it bother him so much that she reverted back into hating him?

* * *

"I quit playing."  
"You quit?" Surprise filled the counsellor's voice. It was such an integral part of his patient and to have her quit was a shock.

Mari nodded.

"Does it help to not play?"

"When I play, it reminds me of her. And then I spiral into these thoughts of feeling like I missed all these opportunities to help," she explained. "It… it wasn't healthy, as you said."

"Mari, it isn't your fault," he told her again.

"It sure feels like it," she scoffed. Mari looked out the window. It was the middle of winter. The trees were bare. The sun was shining, but it was deceptively nice. As soon as she stepped out the door, she could already feel herself shivering at the cold wind down her spine. Almost like how she felt on a daily basis – deceptively alright from the outside.

"You did everything you could."

"I didn't," Mari sighed. "Maybe if I had just… gotten there sooner. Or had seen all the signs…"

"It's never easy to spot mental illness," the adult reminded.

"I just…" the teenager's eyes welled up in tears. "I just want _answers_."

* * *

Mari was never perfect – and she knew it. She began understanding why the Ootori held himself to such a high standard, and his frustration at her when she was sloppy with the way she wrote her notes, or how she didn't care to follow the rules.

She only followed the rules when it came to the score. And now she had no score to follow, no music to fill her ears, no one to tell her that she wasn't doing it right.

They worked better as lab partners, silently molding their style of work to each other's strengths. By the middle of the term, it felt like they worked as though they were a well-oiled machine. He was tolerable when he was silent. Mari figured that he probably felt the same.

"Why do you take these courses?" he once asked, drying the last of their glassware at the end of their class. "You pretty much have a one-way ticket to Julliard."

Mari narrowed her eyes at him. "Julliard? What do you mean?"

"You just won the International title," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose for the millionth time she'd seen him do it. "You don't need chemistry. Or calculus. Or physics."

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "I quit."

"What?" He was in disbelief.

Mari refused to say anything more. "I'm late. I have to go." She didn't want to dwell on the topic, especially with him.

* * *

"Am I a coward? To quit?" Mari pondered. It was a snowy day outside. It was a stressful time of year, complete with university applications and waiting to hear back. Everyone seemed to be on their toes about life after Ouran. Mari couldn't quite feel the same, not with all of the emotional turmoil broiling at the back of her mind.

"Quit what?"

"Playing the piano."

Her counsellor shrugged. "Everyone copes differently, Mari. We all do what we have to do."

"He just," Mari sighed. "He looked at me like… I had just committed blasphemy."

"Who?"

The former pianist rolled her eyes when she thought of him. "A classmate. My lab partner, actually."

"Does it matter what he thinks?"

"You're right," Mari nodded. "Yeah, he's irrelevant. Sorry. I just, I don't know. I'm okay. I think."

* * *

He didn't understand her one bit. She threw away her entire future. And for _what_?

Why did it drive Kyouya mad that she was doing this to herself?

It wasn't any of his business. It was _her_ loss to be throwing away her future. It was _her_ dumb decision. She was naïve and careless. Why did it matter to him?

And why was she _always_ going towards the medical wing? She wasn't actually sick, was she?

 _Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear answers for._

Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he really should stop caring. Why couldn't he stop to care?

 _I believe in you. Even if you are an asshole most of the time. And don't get me wrong, you're still a bastard. But you work hard._

Her words rang true in his head. He remembered brushing off her encouragement. Just like how she brushed off his concern. They were such different people, yet somehow – she worked in such synchronization with him. It made him wonder.

Were they even friends? Why did he _want_ to be friends? That was the real question.

 _You… really suck._

Why did it bother him that he was such a terrible person in her eyes?

* * *

"Mari, where have you been?"

Her commoner friends hardly saw her anymore during their free periods and during lunch.

"Oh, I've been at the library," she gave a faint smile.

"You look really… rough," Aki blinked. "Like, honestly – we thought it would pass over because of last term's finals but, are you okay?" Her friend gestured for her to sit down with them. Mari gladly took a seat.

Mari nodded. "Yeah. I'm um, just stressed over university applications." It was half true.

"Toudai? You'll make it in for sure. Your grades have been really high last term. You were ranked third in the entire grade!"

"Yeah…" Mari admitted. "I… I don't know, maybe it's not good enough? What if I want to go overseas?"

Their friends widened their eyes in response. "Overseas? Do you even qualify for scholarships overseas? It's so expensive – I could never imagine going, even if I made it."

Mari felt a pang of guilt. Her opportunities were eons greater than her friends because of her financial status. How could she tell them that money was not a problem for her? No matter how expensive tuition was, Mari knew that she would be alright as long as she made it into the school. She could only shrug and say, "I guess… it never hurts to try, right?"

Her friends congratulated her and supported her ambition. Aki wanted to study Education at Toudai to become a teacher. Misaki was applying for pre-law programs in hopes of becoming a lawyer. Kiyoko had plans to apply to journalism school. And Mari… Mari was just a blank slate. The world was her oyster, as they said.

But the world was confusing and Mari was unsure where she fit into all of it to begin with.

* * *

"I wish I got to know her better."

"Hm?"

Mari looked out the window, her legs were crossed comfortably against the office chair. She was warm in her oversized hoodie, the sleeves reaching to the middle of her palms. She had kicked off her winter boots in favour of being in her socks. Her counsellor didn't mind, it seemed. It was meant to be a safe space to talk and getting comfortable was a helpful step.

"All I knew was that she was qualified to teach me. Played with various different orchestras across the world. She was a good teacher." Mari paused. "I knew that she hated being late. Louise was a stickler for being on time, whether it was in the score or in real life. So as soon as it was even a minute past the scheduled lesson – I knew she wasn't coming."

The counsellor listened intently. "What else did you know about her?"

"She had no one."

"She had you," He suggested.

"And I didn't even realize she needed someone." Mari buried her face in her palms. It was the worst part of knowing it all. "I was so blinded by the music that I didn't even realize she was suffering silently for over a decade."

"The choices your teacher made cannot be reversed. Whether you had been there to intervene, or if you had known earlier – no one can fully say that things would have turned out differently."

The teenager sighed. A headache began to form the more she thought about it.

"You don't know that," Mari muttered, wanting to call bullshit.

"We'll never really know. None of us will know what triggered her to take her life. But you did what you could, Mari. You did what was right to the best of your ability."

"I just – why didn't she have anyone?" She was at a loss. "She had to have someone. A friend. A parent. A sibling. A… a neighbour."

"We'll never really know."

"What if I was the only reason why she kept living? And… that I… I was able to reach a level of playing where she thought I didn't need her anymore?" the teenager sobbed. "I needed her. I needed her more than anyone."

"Did you?" her counsellor handed her tissues. "You won the international title all by yourself."

Mari shook her head. "We decided on the set list a year ago, right after I had placed third."

"But you practiced without her guidance."

"She left me notes in her score," Mari croaked. "She left me everything I needed to win."

Her counselor shook his head.

"Mari, you pushed yourself to that level of precision and technique to win. She wasn't here to do it for you. Did you _really_ need her?"

* * *

Mari woke up on the weekends feeling empty without the thought of having to practice on her mind anymore. It was her last year of high school, gosh – she deserved to have fun, didn't she? But her life was boring and her friends had no idea the kind of lifestyle she truly led. With a staff of 10 housekeepers, a chauffeur, and a private chef at home. Not to mention, the gardeners and the landscapers outside during the spring and summer months.

Mari walked past her studio with the grand piano. She had asked the housekeepers to put a sheet over the piano to prevent the dust from accumulating.

 _"Mari, are you sure? You aren't going to play the piano anymore?"_ Chiaki-san was heartbroken. He loved hearing Mari play every day for over a decade. He would sit outside the studio, listening to her fingers glide over the keys and would be at her beck and call every time she needed a glass of water, or a hot pack to keep her muscles from straining.

 _"Yes, please."_

 _"But why?"_

 _"Louise has stopped teaching me,"_ Mari explained. " _She left and… I'm tired."_

Mari didn't want to bug any of her friends to hang out. They were all working on essays or studying for the next test. She too, should have been working on a lab report and studying for their calculus test next week.

" _You should take some time to relax. I think the stress might cause you to spiral into a cycle of guilt and irrational thoughts."_ The words of her counsellor rang through her ears.

Mari sighed. What was even relaxing? Her life was just school. And now that she no longer played the piano, Mari had nothing else to do.

"Can I help around the kitchen?" Mari poked her head into the door. The private chef laughed.

"What would your parents think? They pay me to have you do my work? No, no. Go on ahead, Mari. Don't you kids go to the mall nowadays?"

Mari contemplated the idea. Well, maybe it would be a good time to get a new pair of sneakers. One that didn't have grass stains on them. Maybe better earphones because the wire had been poking through the jack. Perhaps she would get a new phone because the battery life on hers didn't really last any more than the school day with minimal use.

Mari's trip to the department store for the first time in her life was a fascination. She had always heard about her commoner friends talking about it – the sales that happened on clothes, on electronics, or even food. It was amazing how you could find _everything_ in one place. She had only gone a handful of times, but each time was always an adventure.

What she didn't expect however, was the Shadow King sleeping on a bench by the elevator at 10:30 AM, in a commoner department store no less. Mari stood in front of the boy in awe, unsure if she was hallucinating. Mari couldn't quite understand _how_ or _why_ Kyouya Ootori was sleeping on a bench in a department store, but she deducted that the Host Club had to be nearby for such a thing to happen.

Well, if the Host Club was nearby – Mari figured that the Shadow King would do well on his own. The department store wasn't all that difficult to navigate. Mari left to do her own errands, beginning with finding shoes first.

Mari passed by a pottery vendor on her way back from buying earbuds. She recognized Kyouya and Haruhi standing aside to watch the man try to swindle the old woman. Mari had gone to enough art exhibitions with her mother to recognize that the pottery was far from the standard of genuine artwork and was surprised when Kyouya intervened.

 _He really isn't that bad of a person,_ Mari thought to herself.

 _But he's still a prick_ , she reminded. _He once called your family's pedigree closer to the commoners than his own._

 _He also gave you coffee one time. Probably the best coffee you had ever tasted in your life._

 _And he fixed your mistake on your lab report without telling you._

 _He asked if you were okay after he saw you exit the medical wing._

Mari huffed.

It was so much easier to just hate him and his arrogant ass.

The teenager left to find a new phone for the first time in years and finished her trip at the department store by mid-afternoon. Mari walked towards the parking lot area, a regular pick-up spot that her chauffeur knew by now. From a distance she could see Haruhi part ways from Kyouya. The commoner was going to take the subway.

Which only left the Shadow King standing around. Mari's curiosity got the best of her and from a distance, she could tell that he was squinting in confusion to see her presence. Mari chuckled to herself, with her shopping bags in tow as she coolly walked over to greet her classmate.

"Had a nice nap by the elevators today, didn't you?"

The Shadow King narrowed his eyes and glared at the familiar face.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Shopping," Mari explained, rolling her eyes. "You know, like regular people do here at department stores."

"You can just buy it online and have it shipped. It's much more efficient," the Ootori scoffed.

"Can't really have a dog shipped," Mari chuckled to herself. "Suoh-san really bought a dog, didn't he? Amazing."

"Were you just stalking us the whole day?" the Ootori accused.

"I was running errands," Mari corrected him. The Host Club had been everywhere in the department store. It was hard to miss Tamaki with a dog leashed to him.

"Don't you have _people_ to do that?"

Mari sighed, giving up. "Yes. I do. I'm rich like you."

"Not _as_ rich," Kyouya smirked.

The teenager crossed her arms and looked at him with disbelief. "Why do I even try to be nice to you? You always revert back to being this… snob. I don't know how Haruhi handles all 6 of you at once."

The Ootori couldn't answer that for her. He only stared at her. No makeup. She wore a winter jacket, with her hoodie poking through the back. Her jeans were far from designer, and her shoes: they were clean for the first time he'd ever seen them. She must have gotten a new pair.

"Your commoner friends have no idea that you are rich, do they?"

"No. They never asked," she tried to keep her voice neutral.

"Are you going to tell them, or are you going to keep pretending to be something you're not?" Kyouya's comment obviously made her feel uncomfortable.

"I…" Mari huffed. "Yeah. I don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"You'll follow them to Toudai?" the Ootori was obviously not impressed.

"What if I wanted to go overseas?"

"Well, you can," Kyouya shrugged. "I won't stop you. But the admissions offices will."

Mari shot daggers at the Ootori. "You think my application wouldn't be competitive enough to make it into an Ivy League school? I'm an internationally acclaimed pianist. My grades are high. I'm trilingual. And for crying out loud: I have a better grip on reality than you."

The Ootori tilted his head. "You're trilingual?" He ignored the last part of her rant.

"German," Mari rolled her eyes. Louise had a hard time learning Japanese during the first few years of her tutelage. It was a mixture of English and German that somehow translated just fine for Mari's neuroplasticity as a young child.

"From your piano teacher, hm," Kyouya put the pieces together. "Thought you'd also be able to converse in French."

"Conversational French," Mari muttered. "I don't use it often enough."

The Ootori raised an eyebrow at her. "You're talented… and you throw it all away, for what?"

Mari relented. "I'm not talented," she softly denied.

"You are literally one of the top pianists in the world. You are trilingual. You're decently intelligent. And you want none of the money, none of the opportunities presented to you, and none of the acclaim. It's hard to comprehend, Mari."

"Decently intelligent, eh?" the teenage girl wasn't sure how to take this. Was it a compliment? An insult?

"Your grades are surprisingly high," the Ootori admitted.

Now _that_ was offensive.

"It shouldn't come as a surprise," Mari shot back.

"You dress like a peasant, Mari. You come into our classroom like you're half-dead. Your handwriting is sloppy. You shove tests into your backpack like they're garbage. Your grades do not correlate with the way you act."

"That's because they _are_ garbage," the teenager argued back. "Once you've seen your grade: what's done is done. What's the point? Don't tell me you frame every single stupid test you've written because each of them come back perfect."

"There would be too many to frame, Mari. Then it would just be impractical," the Ootori explained.

Mari blinked. "You're missing the point, Kyouya."

"I believe _you_ are missing the point."

"Are you—" Mari wanted to scream in agony. "Are you serious? I was going to offer you a ride home because I thought it would be the nice thing to do but you keep reminding me of how annoying you are."

"I wasn't asking for a ride."

"I know!" Mari huffed. "You don't deserve one."

The teenagers stood by each other in silence. The Ootori sighed.

"You never answered the question."

"What question?" Mari groaned.

"Why do you throw away all your opportunities to achieve even greater success?"

Mari glared at him. It almost made him shiver at how cold she had suddenly turned.

"You think becoming a professional pianist is all I can be?"

The Ootori had to admit, he never saw her as anything else. He could see why she was offended now. Before he could open his mouth, a black SUV pulled up to the curb. Mari reached for the door handle and went straight into the vehicle without saying goodbye.

* * *

Mari stood by their lab bench watching the reaction go on as planned, noting observations down while Kyouya had gone to grab more glassware. This delicate equilibrium that they had both come to reach was always seemingly broken by Kyouya, causing Mari to explode with every shrapnel of emotion hitting Kyouya first.

It was tiring on both their ends. With Mari getting irritated by the Ootori, and Kyouya always at a loss for why he felt so _wrong_ all the time with her. Why did he even care so much? For all he knew, he would probably never cross paths with her ever again after they graduate.

The Ootori watched as Mari noted down her observations in her messy handwriting – her short form became more distinguishable as he learned to read over the semester.

"Do you want to decant it?" Mari looked up at him with her safety glasses. He wordlessly reached for the flask and carefully poured the solution through the filter.

"I'll wash this time." Her gloved hands reached for the dirty glassware. They worked well together, and that was what Kyouya couldn't quite comprehend. She could read his mind when they did these experiments, never needing to pick up her slack by any means, and Mari was _good_ at what she did.

Perhaps that was the most surprising part. She was _good_ at the same classes that he took. He wondered how much more potential she had, beyond being just a musician. It made him curious.

It was the last class of the day with Kyouya heading to the music rooms after. It still boggled him that she no longer spent any time in that wing of the school. She packed up her bags and said nothing to him when their paths diverged. He wanted to say something. Ask her all the questions that he had been dying to know the answers to. But even when he did ask, she would brush him off like he was dust. Irrelevant. A nuisance.

How could she?

It riled him up just thinking about it.

He watched as she turned the corner to the medical wing.

* * *

"What if being a pianist was my peak? That's all I know how to do."

Mari sighed. She hated how the Ootori kept reminding her of what she was good at. She was only good at choreographing her fingers to play keys in a pleasant manner. Really, that was it. The counsellor flipped through their notes, taking note of Mari's most recent transcript.

"Mari, your grades are spectacular. There is no doubt that you will find your way," the counsellor reminded her.

"I'm good at taking tests," the student rolled her eyes. "It's easy to take a test. It's not easy to deal with the reality of the world."

"What do you mean?"

"No one really teaches you what the process of taking care of someone's death is like. How to hold a funeral. Or how to cremate a body," Mari half-joked. She was getting less anxious about the topic. Her chest didn't swell up in discomfort at the thought of it all. It had been months now.

The adult in the room tilted their head, unsure of how to take her last comment. But the teenager made her point clear. She was not equipped with the skills that the real world had expected her to have.

She was, after all, just a kid.

"Mari, your case is…"

"Not normal. I know. If your next line is something about dealing with trauma – save it. I've read through all the articles." The girl fidgeted with her fingers, drumming them on her knee. Her counsellor took note and sighed.

"You know, if you're itching to play again… no one's stopping you. It isn't like you aren't allowed to play the piano ever again."

The teenager shook her head.

"I don't know if I'll ever play again, really."

* * *

Mari finished her counselling session around the same time as Kyouya had stepped out into the gates of the entrance after his usual host club duties. The two waited in silence, letting the winter wind fill in the tension.

"I've sent you a draft of the lab report," Kyouya informed. He worked on it while the shenanigans of the club continued.

Mari nodded curtly. No verbal response. Her counselling session was cathartic, and Mari didn't feel the emotional turmoil that usually bubbled in her chest. She wanted this feeling to last a little longer so she tried her best to stay calm. Mari took out her phone to check the time.

"No longer the brick that you used to use…" the Ootori commented as he tried to make small talk.

Mari sighed at the attempt. "Yeah."

They reverted back to the silence, a little more comfortable now.

"Why do you keep trying?" Mari murmured. "We're… so abrasive with each other and—"

"I was trying to be polite," the Ootori gritted.

"Actually, the polite thing to do would be to acknowledge my presence and leave it at that," Mari pointed out. "I mean, I've tried with you too… but – goodness, we're just so much better as lab partners than anything else."

The Ootori had to admit that she was right.

"I don't… hate you," Mari exhaled. "I just think you can be…"

"Conceited," the Ootori suggested.

"An asshole," Mari finished at the same time.

The Ootori glared at her. Mari bit her lip.

"I mean, you're not… wrong in that sense either," the girl tried to make him feel better. Not that she was saying anything to take her words back. "It isn't like you don't think of me in the same manner."

"I didn't," Kyouya coldly answered.

"Really?" Mari chuckled. "You didn't think I was some sloppy mess of a student who miraculously pulled up their grades in the one year that it actually counts for?"

She was met with silence. Mari raised an eyebrow at him. She was right.

"You never thought of me as anyone with potential," Mari shrugged. "But I can't say… that most people really do."

The Ootori let those words sink in.

"You know, you may be the third son in the family but you already have your life lined up. You're destined for greatness, no matter what it may be. The expectation for you exceeds the ones for me by eons," the girl smiled at him softly. "So no matter where you go, or what you do – you're already ahead."

"It doesn't always mean I will reach those expectat—"

"—Oh please," she cut him off, rolling her eyes. "You have the work ethic of a mule and the ambition of the entire universe. You will succeed, even if you pretend that you won't."

Mari combed her fingers through her long hair, keeping it out of her face as the wind blew. She looked down at the ground, her shoes already scuffed by the mud. Mari contemplated her own trajectory for the future, if she had any.

"Then what about you?" Kyouya asked.

"What about me?" Mari blinked.

"Why don't you think of yourself as the same? You have the work ethic. You just don't have the ambition."

"Who says I don't have ambition?" the former pianist raised an eyebrow. Her ride had finally arrived. Mari opened the SUV door and stepped in. She poked her head through the door before shutting it completely.

"I'll be seeing you at Harvard, Kyouya."

The Ootori was left standing at the curb in disbelief. He too, had gotten his offer of admission only days ago and no one, not even the Host Club knew. It must have been a fluke – but Kyouya could not deny that they had discussed this in the previous summer at the engagement party of her brother. She intrigued him, surprised him, and challenged him unwittingly.

Mari Takuya was someone he had to admit that was special.

* * *

Mari stared at the key that she held onto for the past four years. It was probably time to give it up, especially since she hadn't stepped for into the room since December. A part of her wondered if she would ever miss it all.

The gruelling hours of playing a few measures over and over and over again until it was perfect. It was tiring and insane to a certain degree. But she stuck with it for so long, perfecting a craft that made her love the way her fingers grew to naturally glide over the keys, the smooth texture of the ebony when the tips of her fingers delicately met with the instrument.

It was early in the morning and Mari stood outside of the Second Music Room. The term was nearing an end and finals were just weeks away. Mari shuffled to find the keys that were attached to her grey lanyard, faded and fraying at the sides. She had these keys since her first year of high school.

The Steinway was exactly how she remembered it. Polished. In tune. Glistening in the sunlight. The mornings were always a struggle to get going. But with her coffee in hand, Mari would settle at the bench and crack open her score.

Now, her scores were stored in a box at home underneath her bed because she didn't want to look at them anymore. Mari still sat down on the bench, placing her cup of coffee by her feet. She played the first chord that came to mind.

 _I love you_

 _So I don't need to worry about anything_

 _My darling, Stay gold_

 _Smile innocently for me forever_

Words just flowed from her mouth. It was a song that Mari had just been listening to on her way to school. It had been stuck in her head for some time now.

" _No one is stopping you from playing again, Mari. It was such an integral part of you, and to shut it away… it's a coping mechanism. But coping isn't the same as healing. Just try it again. Let it be a form of expression. I hope it's cathartic for you."_

Mari took her counsellor's words to heart. Her fingers naturally gliding once again, figuring out the chords to the contemporary song. Mari sung softly, letting her emotions take control instead of her brain.

 _Ah, somehow just like that, good luck_

 _There will surely_

 _be many more sad times ahead of us_

 _My darling, stay gold_

 _It's also important to understand pain_

It sounded like droplets of water in the form of a melody that seeped through the walls. Kyouya was in early, as usual. He hated mornings but it was much easier to deal with his grumpy attitude by himself as the caffeine kicked in before homeroom. He liked having the peace and quiet of the mornings.

 _I'll always love you so_

 _There's no need for you to worry at all_

 _My darling, stay gold_

 _Keep smiling freely, forevermore_

He recognized that voice by now. And there was no one else who held that room's key. She sang softly before the chords grew to be steadier and carried her voice along with it. His legs brought him towards the entrance of the Second Music Room, hiding behind one of the double doors that were closed.

She sounded beautiful. Her voice was soothing at the crack of dawn. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Mari's sweet voice crack as she sniffled. He could hear her exhale as her fingers stopped playing to wipe away tears. The Ootori was in too deep to show his face. He listened as Mari took another deep breath. He could hear her sniffling again. Kyouya wondered if it would be a good idea to leave right then and there. It was the most logical thing to do.

She never managed to finish the song. Kyouya darted back into the Third Music Room as soon as he heard the piano bench shuffle against the wooden floors. He listened to her lock the room to head down the halls towards the administration office. He poked his head out the Victorian doors as soon as he thought the coast was clear.

 _Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers for._

* * *

 **A/N:** Lyrics are from "Stay Gold" by Utada Hikaru.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kyouya walked into the homeroom class, early as usual. But she was there first. Mari's hair was tied up in a low ponytail, her eyes looked fine despite shedding a few tears earlier in the morning. She had her arms crossed with her baggy hoodie that hid her body into a giant lump of apathy towards the world. Mari made eye contact with the Shadow King and nodded politely.

He had so many questions.

"Good morning," he cleared his throat.

Mari raised an eyebrow at him, confused at the greeting. They held a delicate balance between tolerating one another and wanting to rip each other apart.

"Morning," Mari cautiously answered back. She reached for her travel mug with her coffee and took a sip. They were not here to make small talk. It was weird enough that he was talking to her outside of what was necessary.

The two sat in silence, with Kyouya pretending to be occupied with his laptop and Mari reaching for her earbuds in her bag.

"Harvard," the Ootori spoke up, trying to stop Mari from ignoring him completely with the earbuds. He brought up the first topic that he could think of, one that was appropriate to talk about. He had to admit, the execution of his plan was rather awkward. Mari looked at him strangely.

"Yeah, what about it?" the teenager looked at him suspiciously.

"You've accepted your offer?" Kyouya perched up his glasses against his nose bridge.

Mari blinked at him. "Yes…" she nodded slowly. She did it a few days ago, after Toudai had given her an offer as well. Ultimately, Mari decided to follow in her brother's footsteps. "D-did you?" She stuttered because she was unsure of what the Ootori was trying to get at.

"Yes," Kyouya answered stoically.

The girl nodded. "Um, congratulations, I guess."

"Why?" the Ootori pried.

"Why… am I congratulating you?" Mari blinked. "Actually yeah, that's a good question… it's not like you nee—"

"No," the Shadow King huffed. "Why Harvard?"

The girl narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Why _not_?"

"What are you going to say to your… friends?"

Mari rolled her eyes. "I'm not telling them anything unless they ask."

"Lying by omission?"

"What? No, I—"

They were interrupted the door sliding open. The two reverted back to their regular selves, ignoring each other. He could feel her anger boil over as she violently placed her travel mug against the desk, shooting him a glance that only made the Shadow King pretend he was not affected by the slightest bit.

By the afternoon, Mari sat with her arms crossed obviously still annoyed by the Ootori. He hadn't even done anything during the class to annoy her, much less even say a word. But here she was, scowling at him for no reason. He rolled his eyes at her, unamused by her immaturity.

The teenage girl angrily threw a pair of nitrile gloves at him for their last lab of their high school years. He caught them coolly, slipping them onto his fingertips with ease.

"I was just trying to make small talk," the Ootori tried to explain himself from the morning.

"Your small talk is always an _attack_ on my character and my self-worth," Mari grumbled. She flipped open the lab manual with the prelab already finished. She skimmed over the instructions and began gathering the glassware required, ignoring his presence and continuing on with her usual routine of beginning the experiment.

Kyouya easily caught onto her pace, quickly moving onto the next step by weighing out reagents. The two sat patiently for their experiment to react, casually sitting on the bench stools and observing carefully.

"You know, if you wanted to talk – you could just do it normally," Mari mumbled.

"You're the one who refuses to converse," the Ootori whispered back.

"I refuse to talk with someone who thinks my friendships are based on pure lies," the girl coldly replied. "What's your problem anyway? Do you hate my friends because they're not on the same level of social standing?"

The Ootori rolled his eyes. "No."

"Then why do you keep reminding me that I don't deserve to be friends with them?" she frowned. "They are such wonderful and kind people to me. And I…" Mari trailed off. "Maybe I do feel guilty that I have opportunities that they may not ever be able to experience." Kyouya always seemed to remind her that she was privileged beyond what her friends could ever imagine. Mari was unsure what to do with all of the privilege that she held except to keep quiet about it, a stark difference from the rest of the elite population of the school.

He left the conversation at that. Why _did_ he feel so guilty? He watched as the girl took apart her ponytail at the end of class and hung her oversized lab coat on the hook. She grabbed her textbook and her notebooks, only to roughly stuff it into her backpack. It made him cringe at her lack of care towards her belongings.

The Ootori wondered why it mattered that he always managed to set off her fuse. It was good, right? Finding her weaknesses. Attacking at where it hurt the most. But she wasn't the enemy – she never was a rival to begin with. Not with her lacklustre lineage, her boring career as a musician, or her academic record.

Mari rubbed him the wrong way because she too, attacked him in ways he didn't realize would hurt. Kyouya wondered how much longer it would take for her to notice that she held the same power as he did to her.

* * *

"Am I a bad person?" Mari asked.

"Why do you think so?"

The teenager fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater.

"I feel guilty," the girl sighed. "And the feeling never goes away. I feel like I've always done something wrong. I'm letting people down."

"Who are you letting down?"

Mari sighed. "Louise. My friends. My family."

"Let's try to break down each group. Why Louise?"

The teenager shrugged. "Obvious reasons, right? I'll never know if I was the cause. Or if I wasn't enough to save her. Zero-sum game on that one. I'll carry that for the rest of my life, I suppose."

The counsellor nodded. They had talked about that for hours on end. Mari was slow to accept the reality of the sudden death and the teenager made strides in progress in talking about Louise. The therapist decided not to delve into that topic for too long.

"And your friends?"

"I come from a lot of privilege," the girl looked out the window, almost ashamed to say the word. "My friends don't know that. But I am guilty for being unable to share the same opportunities that I have with them. Like going overseas for university." A headache formed when she thought of the words that the Ootori said in the morning. Mari rubbed her temples in an attempt to soothe the pressure building in her skull.

"I'll miss them, a lot. I don't know if they'll be mad at me for... everything, really. Not telling them that I was privileged. Not telling them that I'll leave in a few months time. I wonder if they'll accept me for who I am."

"You seem to be under a lot of stress," the counsellor noted. "Were you thinking of telling your friends about it?"

Mari shrugged. "I don't know what would be the right thing to do."

"Mari," the adult's voice was soothing. "Do what you _feel_ is right. You will bear whatever consequences that follow. You are a capable young woman and you certainly can handle what comes your way."

"Well, I'm glad one person thinks so," the teenager sarcastically replied.

"What do you mean?"

The teenager looked at the adult who she had grown to open up to since the beginning of the academic term. The counsellor knew her well enough than most adults, or really, more than anyone at this point.

"I feel like I'll never amount to much," Mari admitted. "Not that my family has many expectations for me to begin with but… as a pianist, at least that was my defining quality. Kanda is the heir. My sister Yuki is the baby of the family."

"Was your family disappointed that you stopped playing?"

The former pianist blinked. "I don't think they know."

"Why not?"

Mari chuckled. "Well, I never told them. They never asked. We're on a need-to-know basis."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not really," the teenager admitted. "I like the freedom of having no expectations. But I wonder if… I was supposed to… honour the family, somehow. Like the rest of my peers, I guess. Strange that I'm not on the same boat as them, you know?"

"Well, what expectations do you have for yourself?" the counsellor shifted the topic.

The teenager shook her head.

"I have no idea."

* * *

The cold rain was an indication that the snow was soon to melt and that the trees would begin to bud. Another school year in passing, only this time – Mari would never have to return back. She walked the halls after her counselling session in reminiscence, remembering the small little corners that her friends used to eat lunch at. They moved every year to appreciate different parts of the school.

Mari hoisted open her umbrella against the rain, waiting for her ride as per usual. Her slim fingers tried to push open the apparatus, only to break the plastic handle of the device. Mari sighed to herself. Whatever, she'll wear her hood. It was only a few more minutes of waiting, after all.

The pitter pattering of the rain against her hooded head subsided when a shadow casted over her head. All Mari could see was the blue blazer that fitted their shoulder, their long arm holding the large umbrella over the two of them. She lifted her head up in surprise, noting the Ootori whose right shoulder was getting wet.

"You don't have to," Mari softly told him. "Chiaki-san will be around in a few minutes, I think. A little rain won't hurt anyone."

"I don't want you getting sick," the Ootori muttered. "We still share that lab bench."

The former pianist rolled her eyes. Of course, the Ootori would be looking out for himself.

"We did our last lab today. You don't ever have to see me again."

"We're going to the same university," Kyouya pointed out.

"Different programs," Mari shrugged. "Campus is large. We'll probably have different social circles too, you know."

"What program?"

"Undeclared," Mari murmured. "Something in the sciences, maybe. Business for you, I guess."

The Ootori narrowed his eyes.

"I could also be in the sciences," he reminded.

"Yeah, but – you'd have to see my face so… hard pass for you right?" Mari shrugged.

"I mean, I've survived this long…" Kyouya grumbled. He glanced over at her. She was dressed in her regular outfit, baggy sweater with jeans. Black running shoes. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hair tied in a loose ponytail. Mari certainly did not dress to impress. He had seen her when she did dress like a woman of higher class – and it was a stark difference.

They let the silence settle in. A comfortable one, for the first time in who knew how long.

"You were a good lab partner," she admitted. "Thanks for being tolerable when I needed it the most."

"It's mutual," the Ootori responded. After a few minutes of contemplating, Kyouya quickly spat out the words. "I'm sorry."

Mari blinked. It would be too much for him to ask him to repeat his last sentence. She turned to look at him, and he shifted his gaze uncomfortably away from her. She wanted to ask _what for_. But Mari knew better than to dig deeper. It was hard enough for him to apologize, and Mari gave him the benefit of assuming that he was apologizing for every dumb thing he had said to her over the years.

The girl sighed. "For someone as incredibly smart as you are on paper, you really are horrific at emotional intelligence."

The Ootori opened his mouth to argue, but a vehicle pulled up to the curb. He recognized it as Mari's car. He did the gentlemanly thing and opened the door for her which only earned him a look of confusion. She nodded in thanks and stepped into the car.

"Why can't you be more like this?" Mari poked her head out before shutting the door, her eyes softened when she looked up at him. It took him by surprise. Kyouya quickly reverted back to his usual self before he showed any more weakness.

"Like what?" The Ootori narrowed his eyes.

Mari rolled her eyes and shut the car door, shaking her head. He was such an idiot.

* * *

"Mari, what about you?"

Her friends looked at her with excitement. They were all discussing their future plans at Toudai and Mari blinked. This was a good as time as any.

"I… I'm going overseas," she shyly admitted. Mari pulled up the admissions email on her phone and slid it over the table they all ate lunch at.

Her friends stared at the email wide-eyed. At first in disbelief, and then everything seemed to sink in. Mari was an intelligent girl. No one ever questioned that.

"You're going to America?"

Mari nodded.

"Did you apply for scholarships?"

Mari nodded again. It wasn't enough to cover all of tuition, but it was helpful to a degree. Was this a good time to break it to her friends that she was rich? She wanted to just blurt it out.

"That's amazing, Mari!" Everyone congratulated her. "We should all go celebrate!"

The girl shook her head. "No, it's fine, really. No need for anything over the top, guys. Everyone made it to their program of choice. You are all amazing!"

Her friends laughed. "When did Harvard ever become your program of choice?"

The teenager shrugged. "My brother went there."

"You have a _brother_?"

Mari blinked. "Oh." She didn't realize she never mentioned that. "I have a sister too."

"Huh?"

"Yeah… my family is… pretty affluent.." She admitted. Mari looked at each of her friends cautiously, afraid to find all of them upset for keeping such a secret from them.

"Huh," Misaki tilted her head and looked at Mari. "You know, you don't act like them."

"Hm?" Mari raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you…" Aki pointed at Mari's outfit. "You really dress like you've rolled out of bed." Everyone else in their friend group tried to at least look put together. "And you hardly ever talk about the same things they talk about."

"Yeah," Kiyoko agreed. "Don't you have a business to inherit?"

"Well, no. It's my brother's," Mari explained. Her friends nodded in understanding. "And I'm on a scholarship for music."

"Oh," Aki laughed. "Gosh, and this whole time we all just thought you were on a scholarship for science!"

Mari smiled. "Yeah. I'm a pianist. I used to play at the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra over the summer."

"Oh!" Misaki excitedly chirped up. "That make sense now! That was your summer job! Ah, I would've loved to see you perform! How come you never told us anything?"

Mari shook her head. "I thought… it was too late to tell you the truth… I mean, we all just ended up as friends by proximity. No one really asked. No one seemed to realize… that, well, I was actually just as spoiled as everyone else here."

Aki shook her head in disagreement. "No, you're far from these dimwits." Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, Mari. You're still our friend, you'll always be."

Mari breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to miss all of you."

* * *

Kyouya could hear them laughing in the corner of their homeroom class. Mari laughed along with them, and for a while he always thought that they were annoying. But over the past year, he hardly saw Mari laugh until now. He wondered what changed.

Perhaps it was the stress of the academic year. Their graduation ceremony was within a month. Finals were to begin in a few days. He scrolled through his inbox.

 _From: Mari Takuya  
Subject:_ _Lab #10 Final Copy_

 _See attached._

 _Good luck on your finals._

 _Mari_

Her messages were efficient. But then again, Kyouya was likely the last person she ever wanted to converse with given their track record. Kyouya opened up the message again and typed out a reply.

 _You too._

That seemed like a measly response. He pressed the backspace button.

 _Best of luck._

He tried again.

 _Thank you. You too._

Still didn't seem right.

He wondered why it was so difficult to craft a stupid email to her. It seemed like the polite thing to do. But it was obvious that she didn't care about him, especially as she laughed with her own group of commoner friends. Why did it matter to him so much? Her opinion of him was insignificant. Not when she had no merit to him.

Kyouya hit the delete button.

He waited a few minutes before going back into the Trash folder and dragging her email back into his inbox.

 _Why was he so damn stupid?_

* * *

Graduation was bittersweet as the whole club gathered to wish Tamaki and Kyouya the best. Pictures were taken. Shenanigans ensued. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, with petals falling gently with the wind. It was a beautiful day of joy.

Kyouya looked over the crowd to find Mari and her friends taking photos with their gowns. Mari voluntarily took photos for her friends and their respective families. Not one member of her own family seemed to be present. He could relate. Fuyumi was probably the only one who would have shown up, but she had to go to an event with her husband overseas.

The Ootori slipped away from his friends and approached Mari when she was finally left alone. She was in the midst of waving her goodbye to her friend Misaki, after politely denying their invitation to eat with her family to celebrate the end of their high school years.

"Where's your family?" Kyouya asked. Mari jumped in shock, losing balance on her platform heels. The Ootori quickly reached out to grab her by the arm, his other hand balancing on her waist naturally. He could smell the whiff of her shampoo as her curled hair swayed with the rest of her body.

Mari looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Let go of me," she ordered. The Shadow King did as told, gently loosening his grip on her body. Mari huffed and straightened herself out.

"Do you enjoy seeing everyone jump in fear?" the girl crossed her arms.

Kyouya perched up his glasses. "It was not my intent."

"God, even on the very last day of Ouran – you still manage to be annoying," Mari grumbled. She turned around and began walking towards the building, unzipping the graduation gown and revealed a white dress that she wore beneath. It was perfect for the spring.

Kyouya was quick to catch up with the girl, especially given the slow pace she walked with her heels. Mari noticed his presence beside her this time and rolled her eyes at him.

"It's not like your family is here, either," she muttered. "Middle child, remember? Always forgotten."

"You sound disappointed," the Ootori noted.

"I'm not," Mari responded, almost a little too quickly.

"Are you sure?"

The girl stopped walking and turned to him.

"Like you can be so high and mighty because you're the Shadow King who is cold and aloof," Her voice was sharp. "Yeah. I'm a little disappointed because I had to take photos for all my friends and their own respective families. I have feelings too and unlike you, I can admit to them."

Mari threw the gown over her arm and began walking again, leaving Kyouya behind. The Ootori blinked. He didn't think she would be so upset. He caught up to her again, this time also taking off his gown. He was dressed in a casual tie and white dress shirt.

"Sorry," he softly said.

Mari shot him a glare. It only lasted 5 seconds at most before she sighed and shook her head. God, how she wished to just stay mad at him forever but she was too weak. Mari knew better than to take his words to be sincere and still, the look in his eyes just couldn't stop her from relenting.

"You're so annoying," Mari grumbled. "Like, _truly_ the most annoying thing about this school. Besides the frilly yellow dresses that I've had to stare at over the entire course of the academy."

The Ootori smirked. "So, you'd prefer staring at me?"

The girl threw her gown at the boy in retaliation. He caught it just in time, flinching at her sudden attack. Mari frowned at him and darted her eyes towards the office that took back their graduation gowns. The Ootori rolled his eyes and did her the favour of returning both their gowns in apology.

Mari waited quietly, her back against one of the large Grecian pillars that upheld the academy. She looked nice today, with her off-shoulder lace dress that pinched her waist. The fabric weaned off into an A-line skirt that stopped just before her knees. Mari tied her curled hair back into a low ponytail while she waited for him.

"Don't you have plans with the Host Club?" she asked him as he came closer.

Kyouya shrugged. "There's a dinner later. Tamaki booked a place at some commoner restaurant that serves toro."

Mari chuckled. "Haruhi likes toro? That's cute."

Kyouya rolled his eyes, pretending not to enjoy seeing the smile on her face. "Commoner taste."

"I like toro," the girl muttered, unamused by his backhanded comment. "Commoner things are great, you know."

"Wouldn't you prefer caviar?" Kyouya suggested.

Mari frowned in disgust. "Just because it's expensive doesn't always mean it's _good_. Salty fish eggs are just overrated."

"Your tastes aren't refined, I see," the Ootori rolled his eyes.

Mari crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at him. "This is why you're insufferable."

"I'm merely speaking the truth," Kyouya pointed out.

"Refinement isn't defined by expensive taste," Mari pointed out. "Refinement is the ability to appreciate the details in everything."

Kyouya blinked. He couldn't argue against that. She looked at him as though she expected a response, one that would get her riled up enough to walk away. But it never came. And she never made any comment about his speechlessness, even though they both knew it should have been coming.

Mari opened her mouth to speak but closed it after giving it a little more thought.

"What?" the Ootori narrowed his eyes. He was expecting something snarky to come out of her mouth.

"Nothing," Mari shrugged. "Not important."

"Not much of what you say is important—"  
"And yet you still listen," Mari smirked. "Why is that?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes, trying to mask his lack of response.

"Do I humour you?" the girl wondered. "I suppose I'm just another form of amusement to you," she brushed off. Mari looked to him for confirmation, but the Ootori only blinked at her.

She wasn't just a form of amusement. He had to admit that he enjoyed her company over the past year as his lab partner. They were abrasive, chaotic, and an absolute worst nightmare for anyone to listen to with their constant bickering. And yet somehow, over the months – he had eroded down to feel impressed by the girl's academic track record.

He respected her.

"Do you think we'll ever cross paths?" Mari changed the topic before Kyouya could even tell her what he truly thought of her.

The Ootori perched up his glasses. "I suppose we would." They were heading to the same university, after all.

Mari chuckled. "I guess this is the part where you tell me to steer clear of you, hm." She looked away from him, crossing her arms. She imagined what life would be like over in America. The culture must have been so different from their own. How nice it would be to have... a friend, she thought to herself. But they were far from friends. Acquaintances at best, if anything.

Kyouya wanted to shake his head. But that would have been an admittance of weakness and he knew better than that. His pride refused to let him succumb to such a level.

"It's fine," she shrugged. "I understand. Can't really be seen with a peasant," Mari rolled her eyes.

"You aren't a peasant."

"I just look like one," she finished his thought for him.

"No," Kyouya interjected. "Not today."

Her hair fell loosely to frame her face, curled just slightly. Her large eyes accentuated by a coat of mascara and sharp eyeliner. Her cheekbones were highlighted underneath the sun, the hollows of her cheeks sharply defined. Mari looked fit to play the part of a socialite only a handful of times that he could remember. Her collarbones were sharp as she shifted her arms to cross more comfortably. Her lips were coloured a deep maroon colour balancing the rest of her plain faced makeup.

Mari took a moment to take in his words.

"Was that a compliment from Hades?" Mari feigned shock, placing a hand over her heart.

"Why am I _Hades_?" Kyouya grumbled while he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Being a _Shadow King_ is much too lame," the teenager explained. "If you truly wanted to be great, why not take the title of being the King of the Underworld?"

"Then who would be Persephone?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow.

"Renge?" Mari smirked. "She _is_ your fiancée," she teased. It was the talk of the school last year and Mari knew how much the Ootori _loved_ being associated with the young lady.

Kyouya exhaled, closing his eyes as he pinched his nose. "I would take anyone else to be Persephone – even you."

"You'd have to kidnap me, as per the legend. I don't think I'd be as easy as Renge to kidnap. She would just fall into your arms," Mari pointed out.

"Then it wouldn't be kidnapping, Mari. Kidnapping would imply that I would take someone against their will. Renge would come along if I said we were going to a landfill."

"You can't kidnap me," she shook her head.

"I have a whole private police force," the Ootori deadpanned. "I certainly could."

"Is that a threat?" Mari narrowed her eyes.

"You started it," Kyouya shrugged.

Her mouth gaped at how childish he could be sometimes. She shut her mouth instead and muttered something about how ridiculously rich he was. The tension slowly dissipated as the two took a walk through the courtyard of Ouran, likely for the last time.

"it would be nice though," Mari softly told him. "To have someone you'd know… new school, new people, new country… it's a lot."

"Are you afraid?" the Ootori taunted.

Mari shook her head. "I'm excited, mostly."

"Mostly?" he repeated.

"You would be lying if you said you weren't apprehensive about being so far away from home," Mari rolled her eyes. "As if you have everything sorted out already. Where are you living? What classes are you taking? Have you gotten your visa paperwork done?"

"It's just all administrative things," the Ootori reasoned. "Not difficult. Just tedious."

Mari blinked. "Yeah, sure. I mean, you're not wrong there. Maybe I'm just more worried about the cultural barrier and fitting in."

"Why does it matter?"

Mari tilted her head at him in confusion. "For someone who is heavily reliant on their network, wouldn't you think fitting in would be a good step to take for business connections?"

The Ootori had to admit that the girl had a point. "But you're there to study. Not to make friends."

The girl raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course. It would be a lonely 4 years without any company though. Aren't we all evolutionary creatures that survive better with a herd than on our own? It's just a fact." Mari could have gone without her friends at Ouran, but it sure would have been a bleak journey. She made memories in the courtyard as she ate lunch beneath the gazebo with her friends. Mari would always remember how the light flitted through the stained windows in the library, with all the dust particles that settled over the books.

The pair navigated their way through the maze, letting the tall hedges hide them away from the rest of the crowds that had gathered from the ceremony. Kyouya let Mari set the pace, giving her room to balance and take comfortable strides with her heels. He trailed behind her slightly.

"You must think I'm naïve," Mari turned to lock eyes with him over her bare shoulder. She smiled at him. Kyouya blinked at the sight. A part of him didn't know what to do. He froze immediately, standing on the gravel. Mari stopped along with him, not looking where she was going ahead of her.

Mari found herself in front of the green shrub, far too close for comfort. A wasp flew right in front of her causing her to tip her whole body backwards to avoid the insect. A strong hand held her upright before she could fall over. He caught her for the second time of the day. This was becoming a habit he was unsure how he felt about.

Now _he_ became too close for comfort.

Kyouya didn't know she had freckles on her cheeks. Her lips parted in surprise while her eyes widened when she realized how close he was. His hand naturally gravitated to her back when he noticed her falling against him. Mari stood to find her balance again, still too short to meet his eyes.

"I'm alright, thank you," Mari stuttered.

"Didn't seem like it," he removed his hand before Mari could comment on it. The girl crossed her arms at his response and huffed.

"A simple ' _you're welcome'_ would have sufficed, you know."

"You're welcome," the Ootori repeated in a patronizing tone.

"Ugh," Mari groaned. "Maybe it's best we never cross paths at university."

"Not unlikely," the Ootori shrugged. "Best of luck to you, Mari."

She blinked. Well, perhaps that was the most she would ever get out of the Ootori after a year of academic rivalry.

"You too," Mari held out her hand. A truce.

Kyouya stared at the gesture and gripped her hand in his usual business fashion.

"And to you," he reluctantly responded.

He still had so many unanswered questions for her. But instead, he watched as she turned from him to exit the maze with impeccable posture. Her ponytail waved from side to side as her heels clacked against the pavement.

It never made sense to him why his heart skipped a beat watching her sneak a glance back at him. Mari smiled coyly and gave a small wave goodbye.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Mari wanted the whole college experience.

Which meant living in the dorms for her first year. Moving was harder than she had expected, especially without the help of her parents. She looked around in the lobby of her dormitory, watching how parents bustled about carrying boxes of things for their children on move-in day. All Mari had was a suitcase with her essentials after flying for 14 hours. No furniture, no appliances, no bedding… it was becoming clear that she had desperately underprepared for this dormitory experience.

So _this_ was why Kanda told her to stay in the apartment that he had used during his undergrad at Harvard.

It took a few weeks for Mari to settle into her own small space, thankfully with no roommate and furnished with only a closet, bed, nightstand, and desk. Between figuring out the public transit situation and her two arms that could only carry so much with one trip, her dorm room felt complete with the bare essentials. Bedding, a kettle, hangers for her makeshift closet, and a few books from home that lined her shelves. Mari hung up some photos of her high school friends on the wall and adorned her bed frame with lights.

The bathroom situation with the entire floor was a whole other story that Mari couldn't even begin delving into.

 _So this is what Americans call… college,_ she thought to herself. Her floormates were alright – everyone seemed to have dubbed her the _Quiet Japanese Girl Who Speaks with a British Accent._ It wasn't her fault that Ouran Academy taught in British English, another example of how snobbish she was raised.

It was halfway through her fall semester that a classmate tapped her on the shoulder. She recognized the boy as someone who was on her floor. They had spoken a few times in the halls, passing by one another with regular small talk.

"Hey, you know what's weird?"

Mari turned around from her lecture seat. She sat at the very front. "What?"

"So, I was in the other section for this chemistry lecture because I missed my usual lecture time from being hungover… but this dude answered the prof's questions in the same accent as you."

The girl narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Was he… British?"

"Nah, he was Asian! Like you. Oh, and he sits in the front in the same seat as you."

Mari nodded slowly, getting ready to turn back around to face the front. The lecture was about to begin in a less than a minute.

"Do you know each other?"

The girl blinked. "Not all Asians know each other," Mari answered rolling her eyes. _Americans,_ she grumbled to herself.

"How many other Asians do you know take this course with a British accent?" her floormate reasoned. "He wears glasses. About six feet tall. Pretty lean. Always attached to his laptop."

"That's describing a lot of Asians…" Mari sighed. "Why does it matter?"

"I don't know," her floormate shrugged. "Seemed like an uncanny coincidence that you two spoke with the same accent. His name started with a K…"

Her eyes widened in realization.

"Kyouya?"

"Yes! That guy. Super smart – like, _intimidatingly_ smart."

Mari sighed. She couldn't go 6 weeks at Harvard without hearing about this prick. Mari turned around and opened up her notebook. She was here to learn, not think about high school classmates who irritated her to no end.

* * *

"Hey."

Kyouya continued typing on his laptop. He assumed that it was another student calling for someone else's attention. These students were always talking about something dumb or trivial. The Ootori had better things to do.

"Dude."

What was it with Americans and the word _dude_? Such odd lingo, he thought to himself. Kyouya was in the midst of typing through an email. There was a tap on his shoulder to get his attention. He glared at the person behind him. Couldn't they see that he was obviously occupied with something?

"Finally," the student exhaled. "Do you know Mari?"

 _Yo._ What kind of greeting was this?

"Mari?" he hadn't heard that name in a few months.

"Yeah, she lives on my floor. She's in the same class, but different section for lectures. She speaks in the same accent as you do. Weirdly British."

"It's proper English," Kyouya corrected, pushing up his glasses.

"Whatever, man." His classmate brushed off. "She's cute. Short. Freckles on her cheeks. Long hair. Seems quite keen. Sits in your seat too."

"Mari Takuya?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure. Something like that," the guy shrugged. "And she said _not all Asians know each other_ , psh."

"Anyway," the stranger changed the topic. "She told me she's staying here over the Thanksgiving holiday. Are you?"

"This is none of your business," the Ootori glared.

"I dunno, I just thought since you guys know each other… y'all could hang out or something. No one really deserves to be alone during the holidays, you know."

The Ootori turned around when the lecture began, ignoring the chatty guy behind him.

* * *

Classical music played in the background with the occasional clinking of glasses of champagne. Alumni gathered in cliques with Kyouya staying near his brother Akito. It was a good opportunity to network. The Ootori family needed to put up a strong front to begin establishing their reputation overseas, after all.

Kyouya watched as Akito raised his champagne glass to someone across the room, gesturing them to come over. The youngest Ootori turned his head around to see Kanda Takuya make his way over.

"Oi," Kanda greeted. "Haven't seen you in a while, Akito. How's med school treating you?"

The elders caught up. Kanda was in the midst of transitioning into becoming the heir to a real estate empire while Akito was finishing up his medical degree, as per his plan before doing his MBA.

A lull in their conversation allowed Akito to introduce his brother. "This is Kyouya," Akito gestured to the younger brother. "He just started his freshman year here at Harvard."

Kanda nodded in understanding, offering a hand to the younger man. "My sister is here too," his eyes flickered around the room. "She just went to talk to someone about research…"

"I'm here," Mari called up behind her older brother. "Mari Takuya," she introduced herself to the elder Ootori. She gave a nod of acknowledgement to the younger Ootori.

Kyouya reciprocated the nod, taking note of her maroon lace dress – fitting for a Harvard event. Her hair was loosely curled over her shoulders, the curls bounced with every nod she gave towards the elder brothers.

"You two know each other?" Kanda asked his little sister when he noticed that she didn't introduce himself to Kyouya.

"We were classmates at Ouran," Mari explained. "Just like you two."

The freshmen stared at each other in silence, letting their siblings take over the conversation instead. Mari turned away from him, trying to find other people to talk to instead. It was difficult without having any segue out of their circle.

"Kyouya can walk Mari back to her dorm," Akito offered to Kanda. It looked like their younger siblings were noticeably bored by their conversation.

"Oh, that's quite alright – it's not a far walk at all," Mari politely declined.

"Even more reason for Kyouya to do so then," the elder Ootori ushered. "We'll wait for you here, Kyouya."

Mari blinked and looked at the time on her phone. It was past 10. The girl looked around to see that attendees were already trickling out of the venue.

"Go on, Mari. You have class tomorrow," Kanda patted her back. "You can text me when you're back home."

"Okay," the younger sister obediently answered. "Say hello to Emi for me, okay? And Yuki too." The older brother nodded and nudged the top of Mari's head.

"Hey," Mari swatted his arm away. "I spent time on my hair today," she glared. Mari tried her best to tame the fly-away strands on the top of her head. The elders laughed as the younger siblings made their way towards the exit, leaving them behind.

"You can go home, Kyouya. It really isn't a far walk," she ushered him as soon as they stepped out into the cool autumn air. "You have class too, tomorrow."

The Ootori shook his head. "I'm alright. Do you have a jacket?"

Mari crossed her arms and huddled her shoulders together. She didn't have a jacket.

"It's not a far walk," she reassured. "Kanda drove us here from my dorm so… it wasn't too bad. It's only 10 minutes if you walk fast."

"Which you can't," Kyouya chuckled. Her choice of footwear were 5 inch tall suede boots that reached her knees.

"Shut up," Mari grumbled. "I'm doing just fine."

The Ootori sighed and took off his blazer to place over her shoulders. Mari glared at him.

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted. "Take it back."

"Then walk faster," the Ootori challenged.

Mari scowled. That was a familiar face. The same one that he saw nearly every morning at Ouran when she slid open the homeroom doors. Something about it gave him a wave of nostalgia. It was a strange feeling that he couldn't pinpoint. A kind of warmth that he did not expect to feel, especially after all these months from not seeing her since graduation.

Despite that, it was cold enough that their breaths could be seen whenever they exhaled at night.

"Classes are going well for you, I presume," Mari tried making small talk instead of shivering.

The Ootori made a noise of affirmation.

"Your brother seems nice," she tried again.

"Seems," Kyouya repeated the keyword.

"Ah, right. He's still your rival," Mari nodded. "Don't tell me you're going to be a doctor like your other two brothers."

 _Well, that was the plan,_ Kyouya thought. Hence, all the science courses that were loaded onto his schedule.

"Why end up as clones of your brothers when you have to set yourself apart?"

She had a point there. Mari let the clacking of her heels fill in the silence between the two. It wasn't like she was expecting a heart to heart with the Ootori. They were nothing more than acquaintances after all. They reached the entrance to her dormitory after 15 minutes.

Mari shrugged off his blazer to return it back to Kyouya. Their hands grazed against each other. Kyouya noted how cold her fingertips were. He lingered longer than he should have before he pulled away.

"Thanks," she murmured. Mari had to remind herself to make eye contact. It was only polite. But goodness, it felt so terribly awkward. "You really should have just gone home."

The Ootori shrugged. "It's alright. You should get inside. You're cold."

"I'm okay," Mari insisted.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'll see you… around." It was awkward enough as is. They weren't close enough to be considered friends, especially with their history. But they were older now – just a little, anyway. It seemed right to put behind their bickering, especially around their elder siblings.

"Yes," Kyouya agreed. He perched up his glasses. "Perhaps."

She stood in front of him awkwardly. "You should get back now. They're probably still waiting."

Kyouya pulled out his phone and checked his text messages.

"They aren't," he told her. "They went out for drinks."

"Oh," Mari dumbly responded. "Well… that's… pretty shitty of them to abandon you. Where's your dorm?"

Kyouya shrugged. "I don't live on campus. I drove and parked nearby."

She wanted to make a comment about how ridiculous it was that he had a _car_ and could even afford to park on campus, but she remembered that he was rich. And quite frankly, so was she. It had been weeks since she had her own bathroom to herself – living like this had her forget that she actually came from privilege sometimes.

"Right. So, good night?" Mari scratched the back of her neck in discomfort, waiting for him to leave.

"Good night, Mari," he coolly responded, flinging his jacket over his shoulder as he turned on his heel.

 _That's so extra,_ she thought. _But when did he get that jawline?_ She tilted her head at his figure. _Did he get a better haircut? Or is it the outfit that somehow makes him look less annoying today than ever before? Sometimes he could be quite the gentleman._

A part of her suddenly understood why he was a Host, just a little too late.

* * *

Mari took the Thanksgiving weekend to get ahead of her studies. The library was extra empty as everyone had gone home for the holidays. It would have been silly for Mari to fly back to Japan for only a week. It wasn't like Mari had a lot of friends to begin with – she was neither outgoing nor as cool as everyone else around her, it seemed. A good majority of her dorm seemed to be more interested in frat parties and joining sororities than getting to hang out over a study session.

Though she had to admit, everyone was very friendly. People always made the effort to say hello or make small talk with her, despite her quiet nature. Mari worked through another physics problem set as someone took a seat in front of her.

What was the point of sitting _right_ across from her when the entire library was practically empty? Mari huffed to herself and refused to look up. She would only give the person a dirty look, and it wasn't worth her time when she had a midterm to prepare for.

He didn't expect to run into her when he did, but there she was. In her usual uniform: only now she sported a maroon Harvard hoodie and a high ponytail. She pushed up the frames of her glasses, a new addition. She still preferred to handwrite her notes instead of typing them.

 _Typical_ , he thought.

Kyouya settled across from her with his laptop. He pulled up the electronic version of a textbook on his tablet while he made notes on his laptop. He stayed behind for the holidays as well – it didn't make much sense to head back to Japan for only a week.

Mari got through half the problem set before getting stuck on a question. Her mind was distracted by literally anything else but the problem. Her ears became privy to only the sound of the incessant typing of someone's keyboard. It sounded so ridiculously familiar, reminding her of those days in Ouran when she would have to listen to the goddamn Ootori type away in class while she painstakingly wrote her notes by hand.

The girl perched her glasses up at the top of her head and sighed. It was a good time for a break. Maybe eat a granola bar and check her phone. The figure in front of her was blurred. She mostly wore her contacts, but now that campus was nearly empty and that she practically only spent the whole day studying – Mari chose to forego the lenses for the week to give her eyes a rest.

Kyouya looked up from his laptop when he saw that Mari had finally pried her eyes away from her notebook. She squinted at him, tilting her head at him in confusion. Mari put on her glasses and groaned when she finally recognized who sat right in front of her.

"Of _course_ it had to be you with the stupid typing." It was strange speaking Japanese again.

The Ootori rolled his eyes. "You still write your notes." He responded back in Japanese.

"Did you _have_ to sit in front of me when the entire library is empty?" Mari hit him full force with irritancy.

"It was convenient."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Sure, if sitting here in the most discreet possible location that I've claimed since September is what you call _convenient._ "

"I don't see your name anywhere," Kyouya pointed out.

"Why can't you just admit that you wanted to sit beside me?"

"I wanted to sit beside you."

Mari blinked. She didn't think she'd even get to this point. Kyouya smirked at her speechlessness. He watched as she put herself back together.

"But why? We hardly even like each other. We aren't even friends."

"We aren't?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow at her.

The girl sputtered. "Uh. Well." Wasn't it obvious that they were far from friends? "You don't like me. You never did."

"I never said that."

"You _tolerated_ me at best."

"I tolerate my friends," Kyouya pointed out.

Mari laughed. "Yeah, that's true. Your friends were a handful in the best way possible. Where are they now? Some are still at Ouran, I imagine. How about Tamaki?"

Kyouya shrugged. "London."

"Oh? Not France?" Mari always presumed he would return back to his motherland. "He's mentioned that his mother lived there." They had very brief conversations while at Ouran, just enough to scratch the surface of each other's lives while they shared the same music class until she stopped playing.

"He isn't allowed to visit his mother," Kyouya explained.

Mari nodded, deciding not to delve into such a topic. "And what about you? Have you just been hanging with your older brother?"

Kyouya scoffed. "He would rather be seen dead than with me if it weren't for the functions we have to attend."

"Oh," Mari sheepishly responded. She should have known that she didn't share the same kind sibling relationship as he did. Kanda was never a rival, and neither was Yuki. It had always been established that Kanda was the sole heir. Mari and Yuki were just contingencies, at best. Nonetheless, everyone fell into their own places without complaint. Perhaps that was why the Takuya family was so seemingly perfect. And quite frankly, they were.

There was no dysfunction. No rumours of affairs of their parents. No rivalry between siblings. No scandals whatsoever. They were untouchable. Sought-after. Truly, the Takuya family had nothing to lose and everything to gain in the social sphere of the upper class. It was lucky that Mari had come from such a family.

"Does Kanda come back often?" Kyouya switched the topic over to Mari's side. He watched as she reflected on herself, obviously feeling guilty for asking. The Ootori tried to take her out of her misery.

"No," she answered. "He just came back for the alumni event. Gave me his car keys and the keys to his apartment… told me that it was all mine now that he's moved back to Japan."

"Why are you living at the dorms?" he asked. Obviously if Kanda had an apartment near campus, Mari wasn't using it when he walked her back to a residence on campus instead.

"Um," Mari sighed. "Full college experience, I guess."

Kyouya chuckled, mocking her. "How is _that_ coming along?"

"Shut up," she narrowed her eyes. "Besides the bathrooms, it's quite tolerable."

"Really fitting in the commoner lifestyle, I see," Kyouya pushed up his glasses.

"It's um, a growing experience," Mari admitted. "Lots um, lots of socks on doors. Probably as a joke."

"Socks on doors?" Kyouya was unfamiliar with the American culture.

"My neighbour has a lot of sex, apparently. Also, free condoms! Everywhere. Gosh, they're always so in your face about it."

The Ootori blinked. He should have seen it coming but he truly wasn't expecting that to come out of her mouth. She was unabashedly blunt and it was quite… endearing.

"You know what Americans also do that I can't stand? Butcher my name."

"Do they call you Mary instead of Mar-ee?"

"Yes!" Mari groaned. "Do they butcher the name Kyouya too? Like, Kuh-you-yah? Or… Kai-oh-ya?"

Kyouya smirked. "Oddly no."

"Probably because you hardly interact with anyone your age…" she rolled her eyes. "Or you're too busy introducing yourself first to people who you think have merit. Like, all your profs. And everyone else in whatever business association you've now joined."

The Ootori cleared his throat. She was spot-on, but he wouldn't admit that. Mari took his silence as a sign that she was correct.

"Are you going home?" he changed the topic.

"I have another problem set to finish," Mari grumbled, looking back down at the scribbled out problem that she'd started. "But yeah, I'll probably stop by the caf for some dinner and head home."

"I meant, Japan," Kyouya explained.

Mari shrugged. "Yeah, maybe during Winter Break. I have to be fitted for the bridesmaid's dress for Kanda's wedding. How about you?"

Kyouya nodded. "Tamaki wants to a get together and Fuyumi wants to see me."

"Your sister? Are you close?" Mari hadn't heard that name before.

"Closer than my brothers," he shrugged. "She's married now."

Mari nodded. "Well, that's nice," she offered. "I'm assuming Akito got an invite to Kanda's wedding. Will he be coming?"

Kyouya shrugged. "We don't share our personal lives with each other."

"Oh," Mari dumbly responded. "Um. Well, maybe I'll see him. If I do, I'll say hello."

"It's probably best not to," Kyouya rolled his eyes.

"It's polite," the girl offered. She was raised with class, after all. "I mean, there's no guarantee he'd show up anyway, right?"

The Ootori shrugged. It would be good for the Ootoris to show up. The company had a couple projects lined up over the next decade that relied on the real estate of the Takuya family. It would be good to show up to the wedding just for good relations. Whether or not Akito would be the one to show, Kyouya didn't know.

"Are you going to finish up that problem set?" Kyouya pointed.

Mari sighed. "No…" she admitted. "I'm hungry… or as the Americans call it, _hangry._ "

"I'll walk you to the caf," he offered.

She blinked in surprise.

"You don't have to," Mari softly refused. "Really. I can survive. It's just a dusting of snow outside."

"We're friends, aren't we?" Kyouya smirked.

* * *

In a blink of an eye, Mari was back in Japan. She couldn't believe it herself with her jetlag and all.

Flowers were in full bloom. The sun shone through the gardens. The ceremony had just ended. Everyone mingled around before the evening reception. It was a Western style wedding, of course. The epitome of higher class.

"I just flew in from Boston," Mari made a flimsy excuse. She was changed into her pastel pink gown. "I'm _terribly_ out of practice." At least that part was true. She hadn't touched a piano in over a year. She didn't have time to. In between wrapping up her first year of university, choosing majors, and volunteering at a lab over the majority of the summer – Mari was not left with a lot of free time on her hands.

"Oh Mari, please. The guests are waiting," her mother ushered. The guests slowly filtered their way indoors where the air conditioning had welcomed them. The gardens were beautiful but not enough to keep them from feeling the comfort of cool air over the humid summer of Tokyo. The Takuya family was tucked away indoors in a private room where the bride would have been. The bride was already on her way to the evening reception to get into another dress and to have her makeup and hair redone.

"No one told me about this!" Mari complained. "How was I supposed to know that I would have to prepare a piece to play during this wedding?"

Emi sprung the idea on Kanda after their engagement party last year. Somehow the memo got lost through the grapevine.

"She emailed you, didn't she?" Yuki casually mentioned. Her baby sister was becoming the talk of the wedding with her beauty. Mari looked quite plain in comparison to her sister who had somehow blossomed over the course of the year. Even Mari didn't recognize her little sister with the amount of makeup she had on.

Mari shook her head. "No? No one emailed me anything." She turned to their mother who only shook her head. She had very little to do with the wedding planning – Emi took the reigns on that one.

"Oops… that might have been my job," Yuki sweetly apologized. "But you're a professional pianist, Mari. You can easily play whatever and everyone will still be amazed, no?"

Mari fumed. "That's _not_ respecting the score." This was not what she was taught. Or how she was taught to play piano.

"All the composers are dead… why does it matter?" her sister rolled her eyes. "Why is this such a big deal, Mari? Just play something quick. This is _your_ chance to shine."

"I don't want to shine!" the older sister seethed. She wasn't going to delve into why _respecting_ the score was important. None of them would understand the time and effort placed into perfecting a single piece of music. "I didn't want _any_ of this."

"Mari!" the mother scolded. "Why are you throwing a tantrum over something so silly? This is a day of joy for your brother and you're here stomping your feet because—"

"It's not about that! No one fills me in on these things!" Mari sighed. "No one remembers that I exist, and when I do it's because I'm suddenly useful."

Yuki sighed. "Well, who told you to go all the way to America to study? You would've been filled in if you had just stayed here, you know?"

"Your sister goes to _Harvard_ ," Mari reminded. "Who would give up the opportunity up to study at the most prestigious university in the world?"

"Oh Mari, Kanda already went to Harvard," her mother softly said. Harvard wasn't a big deal to this family, not anymore.

"So my achievements are only second to his?" Mari exhaled. She closed her eyes.

"We all expected you to go to Juilliard," Yuki explained. "Harvard just seemed… out of the blue, you know?"

"It's still a great school," the mother tried to reassure Mari. "Wonderful school, really."

"Right," the former pianist sighed. "The prestige just didn't match up with my mediocrity."

"No," her mother shook her head. "You were so accomplished."

Mari sighed.

 _You_ were _so accomplished._

So she wasn't accomplished now, not anymore. Playing the piano was just a reminder to the rest of the world that _Mari Takuya was still good for something_.

It was to save face.

* * *

Her fingers glided so beautifully across the keys as her posture stayed flawless. Her concentration couldn't be broken, even if one had tried. A fierceness had taken over her eyes.

"Who is that?"  
"Oh, that's the middle child."  
"Her? She doesn't come to these things often, does she?"

Kyouya listened to the guests sip on their champagne. He stayed in the background, filling in for his brother Akito who was caught up in more important business for the hospital, or so he claimed. In reality, Kyouya was sent as the Ootori envoy to keep face. It was good to have at least one Ootori around. He was just sent to do bitch work, to be quite frank.

"She's an internationally acclaimed pianist, you know? Won many titles on a National level. Was ranked first internationally two years prior." An elderly woman whispered to her friend.

"Ah, classical pianist. Must be studying at a conservatory, I assume?"  
"No. Harvard."  
"Oh." Disappointment could be heard in their voice.  
"Such a waste of talent, no?"

Kyouya kept walking, keeping an eye on Mari who furrowed her brows ever so slightly as she played.

"Mari? Who?"  
"The pianist."  
"Oh."

She truly was the forgotten one. Kyouya realized what Mari had finally meant when she constantly reminded him that she was never the important one.

"She's a Harvard student now."  
"Huh, who would've expected? Is she actually _that_ smart?"  
"Well, they do say there's a correlation between mathematics and music…"

A round of applause interrupted the conversations as Mari took a quick bow and scurried off to another room. Kyouya figured that she had to get ready for the next venue – the evening reception. He watched as she greeted a few guests, shaking their hand and thanking them for their kind words. Mari's smile was warm. Genuine, even. He watched her from afar, taking note of how graceful she acted around all the elders.

She was truly a woman of class if he didn't know her any better.

* * *

Mari changed into a black dress. High neck, low back. Her lips were painted a dark red, a much darker colour from the afternoon to reflect how she had felt inside. She ripped the bobby pins out of her hair to let it all down. Mari slipped into the shadows, as always. That was where she wanted to be.

She hated everyone and everything here.

All she wanted to do was to go back to Boston – start her major as a chemistry student and forget about Japan. Who cared, right? She was the forgotten child with no expectations to fulfill. What was the harm in leaving forever?

Mari casually grabbed two glasses of wine from a waiter, walking away with ease as she slipped outside onto the balcony. She poured the wine into one glass and sipped slowly. Mari immediately wanted to choke. It was bitter. It left a sour taste in her mouth with the burn of alcohol that warmed her body.

 _God, this is gross. Why do the rich love it so much?_

It was expensive, she imagined. Alcohol was meant to take the edge off of things but all in all, the day turned sour as soon as any mention of the piano had taken place. Mari wondered if the wine would taste better with time. She slowly worked her way down the glass, immediately regretting the decision.

"Never pegged you as someone that would actually enjoy wine," a voice called out to her.

Mari turned around to give a glare to the stranger who stood behind her. He was at least five feet away from what she could hear. Dressed in an impeccable suit, the light could only illuminate his silhouette before he came closer to her at a slow pace, careful not to scare her off. He had done that too many times before. Only the reflection off their glasses gave away who they were.

"Kyouya?" Mari squinted her eyes. "God, please. Not now. I don't have any patience to deal with you." She took another large gulp of her wine.

"You shouldn't be drinking."  
"Says who?" Mari shot back.  
"The law."

Mari couldn't argue against that.

"I won't tell," the Ootori smirked. He came around with his own glass of wine. "You played wonderf—"  
"I don't want to hear it," the pianist coldly cut him off.

Kyouya was taken back by her snappish tone. He was complimenting her and she was suddenly on the defense. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You put up such a sweet façade for someone that is actually quite rude," he pointed out.

Mari ran a hand through her long hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's been a long day."  
"I could imagine."

He let the silence settle.

"You alright?" the Ootori asked.  
"No, but thank you for asking," Mari bluntly answered. She finished off the rest of her wine and stared at the glass for a moment.  
"I'm going to break this," she decided.

"What?" The girl in front of him was crazy. Kyouya couldn't believe his ears.

Mari repeated the sentence. "I'll try not to hit you with the glass shards."

"What?" Kyouya was still staring at her in disbelief, taking a step back to shield himself.

Mari threw the glass against the pavement of the balcony. The music was far too loud for anyone to even notice. She reached for the second glass but not before Kyouya swatted her arm away.

"Is this what you are? A violent drunk?"

Mari laughed. "I'm far from drunk, but I'll let you know what kind of drunk I really am someday. I just want to relieve some stress."  
"Normal people just go for a run or… read a book! What the hell are you doing?"  
"Getting lectured by an old man," Mari grumbled. "Just… throw it."

Kyouya widened his eyes at her.

"I'm not breaking this glass."  
"Too scared to break the rules? Come _on_. You've spent your whole life all prim and proper. Break out of the stupid mold of being a prodigal son. Live a little, won't you?"

Kyouya stared at the empty wine glass.

"Why are you angry?"

"Because everyone in that room seems to think I only amount to being a stupid pianist," Mari scoffed. "And…" she swallowed. There was a gaping hole in her heart that she had thought had healed, even after two years. "Never mind. Don't fucking break the damn glass. Live your life the way you want to."

"You're an awful influence, you know?" Kyouya reminded.

"Because I encouraged you to break a wine glass at a venue that probably has hundreds more to spare? Okay there," the girl rolled her eyes. "Call me a rebel."

Kyouya drank out of his own wine glass, keeping the empty one far away from Mari who had her arms crossed. She looked out into the city. The evening reception was held at a hotel with a stunning view. Everyone was still gathered inside, mingling about.

"You're here for Akito, aren't you?"

Kyouya nodded.

"If they were really good friends, he'd show up to his friend's wedding," Mari mumbled. "I hate the rich."

The Ootori scoffed. "Tell me about it."

Mari gave him a suspicious look. "Well, it's not like you're here to wish my brother well, either. You're just here to save face."  
"You really have no filter tonight, do you?" Kyouya rolled his eyes. He can't say he was entirely offended.  
"I don't usually have a filter in general."  
"Then tell me why you're _really_ mad."

The girl shifted her weight against her back. She leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching the wedding guests laugh and mingle.

"I don't play the piano anymore," Mari explained.  
"I know," his tone turned soft. "I didn't hear you play in the Second Music Room at Ouran after you won Internationals."

She turned to him in surprise. "I didn't think you would notice… or care, really."  
He shrugged. "You were at the medical wing more than you were at the Second Music Room."

"Oh," Mari forgot that he had spotted her there a few times. "Yeah. I had some counselling sessions."

Kyouya nodded. That would explain why he never saw her with any visible injuries. He glanced at her. Her eyelashes fluttered in the night, her eyes accentuated by her eyeshadow. The bold lip colour really suited her, he realized. She looked like a Queen of the Darkness.

"My piano teacher died," Mari blurted out. "Summer before our Third Year." She bit her lip, still taking in the fact that she had shared such a fact with someone other than her counsellor. And with the most annoying guy she had ever known, mind you. Perhaps it was the alcohol, Mari thought to herself. Or maybe… she just couldn't keep it repressed for any longer.

"I'm sorry to hear that," his voice came out more robotic than intended. "I didn't know."

She chuckled. "No one knew. It's fine." Mari looked away.

"So what made you play today?" Kyouya softly asked. He wasn't sure if this was even an appropriate question.

Mari shook her head. "I had to save face, I guess? Today's playing was atrocious."

"It wasn't—"

"Oh, but it was. I only had 10 minutes to study the score. Muscle memory served me right – but I missed all the details. The delicate crescendos that shaped all the phrasing. The pianissimo that could have been brought out so much longer for a finish… and not to mention—"

Mari stopped herself. "Sorry. I just… I definitely didn't play as I should have. I… I hate playing because I can never do any piece justice, not without her."

"You can play for enjoyment?" Kyouya suggested.

"I fall into old habits a lot," she explained. "I become obsessed with the score. But I just… I can't stop thinking about my mentor, mostly. And then it's just a whole series of guilt and self-doubt," Mari laughed darkly. "It's a mess, really. I don't play because it's not that good for my mental health."

"Oh," Kyouya murmured. "I see."

"Yeah," Mari sighed. "Sorry. This… this is really the tip of the iceberg. Gosh, my counsellor at Ouran heard much worse. I pity him, really."

"They were just doing their job," Kyouya pointed out. "You shouldn't feel sorry."

Mari was sceptical. "Sure. I guess." He could tell that she still dwelled on the topic. A turmoil of emotions that she battled from within.

"You look like the Queen of the Underworld," Kyouya tried to divert the topic. Mari wore the bold lip with her eyes that narrowed at anyone who crossed her path. Her black dress let her hide in the shadows, with only her pale skin that glowed in the moonlight.

"Oh?" Mari raised an eyebrow at him. "Fit to rule alongside the Shadow King?"  
"Hades, remember?" Kyouya reminded.

Mari called him that on their graduation day. A little over a year ago now. Mari was surprised that he took it to heart.

"Persephone was the Queen of Spring. I'm far from that tonight. Besides, I couldn't rule alongside you," Mari smirked. "What would my boyfriend think?"

His mouth opened in surprise. This was new information. He couldn't quite process it then and there.

"I mean, I couldn't bring him here because…" Mari pointed at the guests. "This is a lot to take in. And… well, flying to Japan is expensive,"

"Must be a commoner," Kyouya cleared his throat after composing himself.

Mari rolled her eyes at the phrase. "Yeah, I suppose… I mean, it's recent. Met him at the lab that I volunteered at and… it just happened, I guess. We'll see where it goes. Not that it matters because my whole family really doesn't seem to care about me," she added jokingly. They both knew it was far from a joke.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair and placing the loose strands behind her ear. She wore dangling pearl earrings that added another level of sophistication. Nothing about her was flashy today – of course, it was out of respect to the bride. Mari had never dressed in a flashy manner, never her style.

"Thanks for dealing with my shit," her voice was soft. Her eyes averted elsewhere. "I'll see you on campus, Kyouya. Safe travels."

Mari patted him on the shoulder and gave him a polite smile before she left for the night. The Shadow King watched as she disappeared back into the crowds with her stiletto heels.

 _What would my boyfriend think?_

He reached for the wine glass and smashed it against the pavement.

She was right. It did make him feel better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

His neighbour liked to listen to classical music on the occasion. But they also liked to listen to a lot of other annoying music that seeped through the walls. The tenant was new – Kyouya had never encountered anyone living in the unit beside him until his second year. Unfortunately, this also meant that the walls were thin.

 _Whoa! This is where you live? It's sick._

Kyouya rolled his eyes. Their guests were always annoying. Always loud. Ridiculously enthusiastic. They only had guests every once in a while. He could hear the _woos_ and the _ahhs_ throughout the night, only quieting down after midnight when they all scurried through the door to leave.

He never encountered his neighbour until well into his second year. They fiddled with the keys to the place while holding a bag of groceries when Kyouya had been coming back from class. This guy was just a little taller than he was with ashy brown hair. His green eyes called out to him for help.

"Sorry, I'm supposed to surprise my girlfriend with dinner but I can't seem to get into her apartment… do you mind just holding onto these?" he handed over the bag of groceries in the paper bag without giving Kyouya any time to respond.

The Shadow King glared at the man before rolling his eyes.

"I had the key copied without her knowing so, uh," the boyfriend continued. "Was sort of hoping it would work on the first try." The man fiddled with the door a little before the turn of the lock was heard. "Yes! Gosh, she's gonna love this. Thanks man, I appreciate it."

He took the groceries back from the Ootori and introduced himself.

"I'm Bryan."  
"Kyouya," the Ootori coldly responded.  
"Great meeting you!"

The Ootori turned his back and obviously did not reciprocate the feeling. What a nuisance.

* * *

"Your neighbour's kind of a dick."

"Huh?" Mari looked up from the homecooked meal. She had just gotten home from a midterm to her boyfriend surprising her with a meal. It was incredibly sweet. But only after the initial shock of her finding an intruder in her apartment.

"He gave me the dirtiest look. I mean, help a guy out… my hands were full."

"Hm," Mari shrugged. "I've never met him, honestly. But I'll take your word for it."

* * *

 _Your neighbour is kind of a dick._

Kyouya's ears perked up. Damn these thin walls. It wasn't his fault that he could hear the murmurs of his neighbours while he worked in his living area.

 _Huh?_

A female voice answered.

The Ootori walked closer to the wall.

 _He gave me the dirtiest look. I mean, help a guy out my—_

Kyouya wanted to stomp over to the next unit to yell at the guy but decided it wasn't worth his time. As long as his annoying neighbours steered clear of him, it would be fine. He made a mental note to report his neighbour for any noise violations in the future. He would show no mercy now that he knew exactly what his neighbours thought of him.

* * *

Mari couldn't complain about her boyfriend.

He was smart, cute, and incredibly sweet. It began during her summer of volunteering under a lab, doing the grunt work of making buffers, autoclaving, and refilling the supplies. He was the one to show her around the lab, showing her the ropes of how the system worked. It was a summer of bonding over old professors that they both had, late-nights working in the lab, and summer drinks to help relieve the stress.

It was hard to believe that they had been together for a year, when for Mari – it felt like only a few months. She spent the summer after her second year doing more research, visiting her boyfriend's family on the West Coast, and forgetting that she actually a life back in Japan.

Her only reminder of Japan was when she ran into him in the lobby of the building she lived in.

"Oh," Mari blinked. "Kyouya! How are you?" they both stepped into the elevator. She pressed the button for the 12th floor. The highest floor in the building. They hadn't seen each other all year.

"Alright."

Mari noted the suitcases he leaned against. Their third year would begin in less than a week. He must have just gotten back from Japan after the summer.

"How was Japan?" she politely asked.  
"Same old," Kyouya perched his glasses up.  
"You must be tired from the jetlag. Do you need any help with your suitcases?" Mari offered.  
"No, thanks," he rolled his suitcases from the elevator onto the floor that they lived in. He made his way down the hallway to his unit. Mari followed closely behind.

"I'm fine," Kyouya reassured.  
"No, uh, I live… here," Mari pointed towards the unit beside his.  
The two blinked at each other. Kyouya put the pieces together.

"You're noisy," the Ootori seethed.  
"Me? Noisy? What?" Mari was shocked. She was still wrapping her head around how they had never come across one another over the past year.  
"You and your friends! Always yelling during the beginning of the year."  
"I had a couple labmates over for drinks and board games, geez, why didn't you just knock on my door?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "I had other things to do."  
"Like… sulk because you don't have any friends?" Mari teased.

The Ootori stabbed his key into the door without another word.

"Hey, hey, hey," Mari called out to him, taking his suitcase as hostage so she could have a word in. "Just let me know if we're bothering you, okay? You don't have to suffer in silence. We're friends, aren't we?"

The Ootori silently heaved his suitcases into his own unit without another word.

 _Your neighbour is kind of a dick,_ she remembered Bryan telling her.

 _Well then. That explains a lot,_ she thought. Mari chalked it up to jetlag and being pissy. The Shadow King was known to behave poorly early in the mornings or when he was sleep deprived. He was tolerable otherwise.

* * *

"Hey, be nice to my neighbour, okay?"

Mari was in the midst of cooking breakfast for the two of them. She scrambled the eggs with ease, making sure to add enough seasoning. Bryan came up from behind her, circling his arms around her waist before planting a kiss to her temple.

"The dickhead?"

"Well," Mari reached for the tongs to flip over the bacon. "We're actually old classmates from high school. He's…"  
"Pissy?"

Mari laughed. It was the exact word she would have described Kyouya at times.

"He can be nice though," she explained. "It just… takes some patience. He was in Japan for the summer. It might be the jetlag?"  
"Jetlag doesn't explain how much of a dick he was to me the last time we met…" Bryan grumbled. "But okay. If you say so – I'll be the bigger man here."

She smiled. "Thank you. Now eat." She fed him a bite of the scrambled eggs.

 _Be nice to my neighbour, okay?_

Kyouya was in the middle of unpacking his suitcase.

 _The dickhead?_

The Ootori wanted to punch the six foot tall American with his dumb green eyes and hair that was far too long to be seen as proper.

 _We're actually old classmates from high school._

He should've known that it was Mari's voice all along. The tones of the voices were muted slightly because of the drywall, but if you paid enough attention you could easily make out the words. Laughter ensued. Kyouya missed part of the conversation but he quickly figured that they laughed about him. It irked him.

 _He can be nice though. It just takes some patience. He was in Japan for the summer. It might be the jetlag?_

Mari was evidently the more reasonable one out of the two. He had to admit that he half-expected her to be talking shit about him, but she held him in a higher regard than he had initially thought.

It made him feel… good?

What was this weird feeling? Maybe it was relief, knowing that Mari didn't hate him entirely. Or that it validated his character in not being as evil as the rest of the world thought of him to be. Whatever it was, Kyouya continued on unpacking. He put on some music to drown out the voices on the other side.

* * *

"When do I get to meet your family?"

Mari blinked. "What?" She was in the middle of studying for finals with her boyfriend across from her. They often had study dates at the library – if not the library, then they were in the lab together. Or, in the same building where their labs were located. Mari had taken another undergraduate research position in a different lab that aligned with her research interests.

"My family loves you," Bryan shrugged. "You know everything about me. I want to know where you grew up. Who your childhood friends are. What your childhood was like, you know?"

"Japan is far," Mari pointed out. "Like, we have to fly… across the continent… and then a whole ocean."

Bryan laughed. His voice resonated throughout the library, garnering some dirty looks.

"Yes, I know. Thank you Mari – you'd make a wonderful geography professor one day."

"I'm just saying it's…" she sighed. "I don't… I don't usually make the trip back because it's inconvenient." The inconvenience was just the beginning of a whole list of emotional baggage that she certainly did not want to dump on her boyfriend. He wasn't ready for it.

Mari wasn't sure if Bryan would ever be ready for the kind of lifestyle she lived in Japan.

"C'mon, it'll be such a great opportunity for a grad trip," her boyfriend begged. He was graduating in the upcoming spring. Mari still had a year left to go.  
"They're really not expecting me back home for anything," Mari sighed.  
"I'll learn Japanese!" Bryan insisted.  
"You don't have to do that," the girlfriend laughed. "They all speak English to a degree."

Bryan gave her a skeptic look. "Does that explain why you speak English with a strange British lilt?"  
"Uh," Mari shrugged. She had been trying to get rid of that accent, but it slipped out every so often. "My school taught British English. So all my siblings speak like I do."

"I'm excited," he beamed.

Mari could only give him a small smile before going back into studying.

* * *

" _Wakarimasen._ "

Mari narrowed her eyes at the sound. She was comfortably laid on the couch, with her head on his lap. She sat up from the couch and put her textbook away. "What?"

" _Ogenki desu ka?"_

"Bryan, what are you doing?"

Her boyfriend hunched over his phone, repeating phrase from the Duolingo app.

" _Sumimasen._ "

Mari tapped her boyfriend on the shoulder. He took out an earbud and grinned. "I'm learning Japanese!"

"Why didn't you just… ask me?" Mari rolled her eyes.  
"Because you're busy being a scholar and you won't even give me the time of day," he pouted.  
"Gogo kuji," the girlfriend answered effortlessly.

"Huh?" Bryan paused the app on the phone.  
"Gogo kuji," Mari repeated. "It's 9 PM," she said in English.  
He widened his eyes. "Does that mean… I can come back to Japan with you?"

Mari shook her head with a grin. "We'll see." It was too far from the summer to even make any decisions. Besides, teaching him a couple phrases wouldn't do any harm. It made him happy and Mari couldn't take that away from him.

* * *

 _Ohayo gozaimasu!_

Kyouya groaned. Why were the walls _so_ thin? He could literally hear the obnoxious American shout _good morning_ at 8 AM. Since when did he start learning Japanese? Poorly, at that.

 _Ugh. Why did I ever teach you that?_

He heard her groan. Well, at least they both felt the same.

 _Gomenasai!_

 _Oh my god, shut up… I just want… to sleep._

 _We gotta go on our morning run!_

Kyouya couldn't fall back asleep after being wakened by the dumbest sounding American alarm clock on the planet. He wanted to punch the wall. But that would have been counterproductive. Instead, he grabbed his laptop and searched for all the Bryans that came up on Facebook. Why was he doing this? He didn't want to think about that quite yet. Perhaps he could find some kind of dirt. Anything.

Was his name spelled Brian? Or Bryan? Kyouya tried both. It was an hour of sifting through many student photos that looked nothing like the guy he had seen loitering around Mari's apartment.

 _Bryan Karson_

Bingo. Kyouya clicked on the student profile. A chemistry major. Had a work-study position working in an organic lab. Had all the requirements to graduate in the spring. He was boring on paper.

Kyouya dug some more into the profile of Bryan Karson. He was a hockey fan. Liked the Bruins. He liked to run marathons. He was from Seattle, Washington. His favourite food seemed to be pasta in every shape or form.

And most of all, if his social media was of any indication: he really liked Mari. Kyouya scrolled to a photo of the two of them. Mari looked up at the camera, smiling with her arms around his waist. His expression mirrored the same beam of happiness that she exuded. They looked natural together.

 _When she doesn't have any social media so you have to post twice as much._ There was an emoji with the tongue sticking out.

Kyouya rolled his eyes at the caption. Man, there were _so_ many likes. He scrolled down to a posed photo of them at a friend's wedding over the past summer.

 _When she tells me that this dress was just "lying somewhere in the closet."_ A rolling eyed emoji followed after.

Kyouya recognized the dress as the same bridesmaid dress that she wore two years ago at her brother's wedding. It really was just a dress lying somewhere in her closet, he chuckled. Mari's hair had been braided delicately. She looked over her shoulder with a smile. Bryan had caught her in a perfect candid shot.

He scrolled into a deep hole. He learned that they started training for marathons together. He took her on his favourite hike back home last summer. There was another photo of her smiling with an ice cream cone at his childhood ice cream parlour. Another photo of her posing with his family.

 _They love her more than me!_

Kyouya sighed. He was in _deep_. And so was Mari. She seemed to be progressing well with her relationship with this… _guy_ that Kyouya couldn't hate, not entirely. She looked genuinely happy, and probably _was_ happier being here than back home.

He couldn't blame the guy. Mari was a sweet girl – just not to him. That was annoying, but beyond that: Mari was talented. A linguist. Exceptionally smart. It was hard not to see why he would bring her home. Mari ticked off every checklist for any boy – surely a catch.

To any _commoner_ boy, that is.

He closed his laptop. Kyouya was far from any commoner. His blood was pure. He was raised to be better than the rest.

Or so he thought.

* * *

Mari looked at the invitation in her email.

 _Emi Takuya cordially invites you to her baby shower on June 17th. Please RVSP._

She remembered the last time she made a big deal out of the lack of emails, two years ago at the wedding. Contact with her family had been minimal over the past year or so. Not that anyone seemed to have the time to keep in contact with Mari to begin with. Yuki was heading into her last year of Lobelia. Kanda was obviously busy with the family business. And her sister-in-law had been growing a baby these past 3 months.

This was actually the second email she had received from Emi's assistant.

Mari sighed at her computer monitor.

"What's wrong?" Bryan's ears perked up. "You've been looking so forlorn."  
The girlfriend exhaled and mumbled something that Bryan couldn't catch.

"Hm?" He put down his pencil. It was nearing the end of the term. Just a few more weeks to go and Bryan would be a Harvard graduate.  
"How do you feel about baby showers?" Mari grumbled.  
"I like babies!" He nodded agreeably.  
"But not showers?" she gave a small smile.  
"No," he shook his head. "Showering babies? Ridiculous. They need baths, of course."

She chuckled at him.

"My sister-in-law wants me back home for her baby shower. So… yeah, maybe you… can come," Mari reluctantly explained.  
Bryan's eyes lit up. "Really? Hontou desu ka?"

Mari rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just please don't embarrass me with the Japanese."

"You know I will!"

She couldn't help but to laugh. He was such a good person to her. There was nothing but kindness in his eyes when he looked at her. Bryan was everything Mari could have asked for. He was a sweet boy who would do anything to keep her happy. She reached to kiss him on his jaw and huddled closer to him. He welcomed her embrace, keeping her close under his arm.

"Be prepared," she whispered.

"Be prepared to visit your family? Dude, I'm stoked." Bryan grinned at her.

Mari shook her head.

"There's something you should know."

* * *

Bryan had never been so excited in his life. He let his girlfriend take the reigns in leading him around Japan – what more of a grad trip could he possibly ask for? They hiked around Mount Fuji. Experienced tea houses along the rural roads. Visited temples across the country. He was in awe of the natural landscape of the country, in contrast to the urban cityscape in the heart of Tokyo.

There was so much to experience. It was a sensory overload on a daily basis and he got to do it all with her.

"This is amazing, Mari," he told her as he ate vending machine food. Mari had her commoner friends to thank for that.

"It's… it's alright," she chuckled. Mari was glad that Bryan was having a great time. But the entire trip had her accumulate her anxiety until the very end when the baby shower was scheduled.

"Why don't we stay at your home?" Bryan asked. "I mean, I guess I should've asked earlier since the trip is almost over – but don't you have family to visit instead of showing me around Japan?"

"We'll see my family at the baby shower," Mari explained. "The house isn't really located in the city. Not much to do," she gave a sheepish excuse.

The reality was that Mari wasn't prepared to take Bryan home to the mansion with housekeepers and a team of butlers that were at her every beck and call during her childhood. It was complete with a private tennis court, swimming pool, a glorious garden, and not to mention multiple garages for the cars that the entire family owned. It was the kind of thing you would see in movies or read in books – not real life.

"So your family is rich," Bryan shrugged. "Like, rich enough to afford your international tuition fees."

"Y-yeah," Mari cleared her throat in discomfort. Her tuition was no joke, even with the scholarships that she qualified for. Her family was also rich enough to own 3 skyscrapers they saw on the way to the department store. Some properties were still being developed across the city but that wasn't a detail Mari wanted to delve into.

"Why do you look so nervous? If it's anyone that should be nervous, it's me," Bryan smiled.

"Um," Mari grimaced. "I really don't know if this was a good idea." It was a bad idea, and she knew it. But how could she let him down? Bryan had been so excited to meet her family and she had already met his. It didn't feel right to keep him away from it all.

But goodness – Mari knew better. Bryan had no clue the sort of social circle that she was raised in. But it also wasn't like Mari had intended to stay in the sphere for the rest of her life, either. Mari never saw herself as a socialite. She cared less for the benefits and art galleries than she did for the grass stains on her shoelaces.

Mari emailed Emi's assistant back to ask if she could bring a plus one in hopes that they would say no. That was the best case scenario. She could leave Bryan for a couple hours and come back to meet him at the hotel. And yet, the assistant confirmed that it was alright.

"There will be family and… guests," Mari slowly explained. "Just um, smile? Look pretty. Try not to speak too much Japanese that you don't know."

"I can smile," Bryan flashed another smile at her. "But you can take care of looking pretty."  
Mari fake gagged. "Gross."  
"You love it though," he called out.

She couldn't hold back a smile.

* * *

"How do you manage to _always_ look so amazing?"

Mari rolled her eyes. She put her hair up in a bun – only this time there were no baby hairs sticking out with loose ends that stuck out of the bun itself. It was incredible how little it took to look twice as refined. Her dress was something she pulled out of her closet from high school. Off-shoulder white lace dress. Her lips were painted a muted shade of pink. Her eyes were sharply lined. Mari grabbed her clutch from the table.

"Isn't this a baby shower? Why do you look so formal?"  
The girlfriend sighed and pouted. "Bryan, you're going to have to change."  
"Huh?"

The boyfriend wore a simple dress shirt with khaki shorts. His hair was done nicely. But that was about it. Mari gently shoved her boyfriend into the bathroom of the hotel room.

"You can borrow my brother's suit. You guys are pretty similar in stature. You might be a little more broad, so maybe skip the blazer? We'll see."

Bryan came out in a couple minutes, obediently following his girlfriend's instructions. The suit fit like a glove, thankfully. Mari was quick to put the cuff links on before he could even say a word. He watched her work swiftly with her long fingers.

"I know this is dumb. But rich people can be super condescending," Mari pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. "If you walk into this event with khaki shorts you will be stared at for more reasons than needed."  
"What other reasons?"  
"Well, you're… white," Mari noted the most obvious reason. "That already gets you stares from _everyone_ here."

Bryan nodded slowly.

"And… you are what they call a commoner."  
"A _commoner_?" he laughed. "What, so you can't be seen with a commoner? How can they tell?"  
"I can be seen with a commoner – but the rest of the crowd will wonder how a commoner has stepped foot into such an event. Also, the shorts. Dead giveaway that you are a commoner," Mari explained.

"It's a _freaking_ baby shower!"

She laughed. "I know. It's dumb. Why do babies have to get showered, right?" she teased. "But honestly – this is just… how frivolous the upper class can be. I just… I have to keep face for my family. It's… it's really the least I can do." Her eyes were tired as she tried her best to explain the workings of the upper class.

"Okay," he softly said. "I'll do what you need me to do." How could he not?

* * *

Yuki gaped at the sight of him. Six feet tall, ashy brown hair, a stunning smile with a jawline that could cut through paper. The man smiled brightly down at her. _Oh Mari… you're screwed,_ was all Yuki could think.

" _This_ is your plus one?" she asked Mari.

Mari looked up to Bryan and pursed her lips. "Yes, this is Bryan," she answered her little sister in English. She gave a look to Yuki to respond in the same language out of courtesy. Yuki eyed the man one more time before offering her hand.

"I'm Yuki. Mari's sister," the teenager politely introduced herself, her British accent heavier than Mari's. Her hair was dyed blonde, her eyes larger than Bryan had ever seen. They were doll-like. She looked truly unreal. He couldn't believe that they were sisters.

"Cool, nice to meet you," Bryan responded warmly. He looked around. "So, uh, are all of these your family members?" He tried to brush off the stares from the rest of the room.

"No," Mari patted him on the arm in reassurance. "I'll introduce you to the important ones and uh, we'll leave."

"What? No, that's rude."

Mari raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask if he _really_ wanted to be in a room filled with snobby rich people who were judging his every move. Yuki shrugged. It was typical Mari behaviour. Show up to something, say hello, and then leave halfway through. It was fine, mostly because no one bothered to look for her. Except maybe their mother.

"Okay fine, this suit is _kind of_ stuffy."

He let his girlfriend take him by the hand as she smiled politely towards all the other guests.

"Emi," Mari greeted politely. The pregnant woman was glowing. Her sister-in-law smiled at the sight of Mari and was surprised to see the boy who tagged along. "You look beautiful in that dress. How are you?"  
"Fine. The first trimester was awful. I'm glad to see you are doing well, Mari," Emi answered warmly. "Who is this?" She turned her attention to the giant who stood beside her.

"Bryan," Mari repeated for the second time of the day. "This is my sister-in-law," she told Bryan. Her boyfriend shook her relative's hand with ease.  
"Beautiful event," he commented – thankfully in English. "It's absolutely gorgeous." He pointed to all the décor that lined the walls.  
"Thank you," Emi responded curtly. "Are you two…"  
"Yes," Mari cut off with a forced smile. "We met at school."  
"That's very sweet," her sister-in-law nodded approvingly.  
"I'll let you get to the rest of your guests, Emi. Keep me updated," Mari whisked away Bryan before any more questions could be asked.

She dragged him to the outskirts of the banquet hall. Mari settled in the corner and began looking around hurriedly. "If I can find Kanda… he'll be the last person we'll see today…"

"Are we hiding?" Bryan whispered.

Mari gave her boyfriend an incredulous look. "Of course we're hiding! I don't know half those people in the room. I hate these events. This is literally the only time our family gathers."

"Your family doesn't… have gatherings? Like, you know, eat dinner together? Sunday roast?" Bryan was flabbergasted. He knew that Mari wasn't as close with her family as he was with his, but not like _this._

Mari shook her head. "Not since Kanda got married and I left for Harvard," she shrugged. "It's no big deal, really. I just…"

"Mari." She recognized that voice. She looked at her boyfriend with widened eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Yes, mother?" Mari turned around slowly.

"You should be mingling with the guests," she chided. "Who is this?" Mari's mother looked up to the American with a raised brow, obviously unimpressed.

"I'm sure you've already heard from Yuki," Mari responded, snarky in her tone.

"Bryan, this is my mom."

The boyfriend lit up in excitement. Finally, a phrase that he understood in English. He smiled eagerly, offering his hand. "Oh god, you don't know how excited I've been to meet you."

Her mother put on a forced smile and shook the boy's hand. She turned to Mari.

"Why did you have to do this? And _here_ of all places?" her mother turned to her with a hushed tone.  
"Does it matter? No one really notices me. We're just here to say hi and pay our respects," Mari reasoned.  
"They don't notice _you_ but they notice _him,_ " the mother gestured to the American who stuck out like a sore thumb. He was taller than everyone. Louder than everyone. Less sophisticated than everyone.

Mari blinked. "Okay, yes – he's very uh… I can see why this would be an issue – but people hardly care about me! This is about Emi and the baby."

Bryan watched the mother and daughter pair whisper to one another in Japanese. No amount of Rosetta Stone could have helped him in this case. He stared blankly until a pause in the conversation came up.

"I uh, I hope you two are saying good things about me," he casually joked.

Mari glanced at her guest and sighed.

"I'll leave," Mari told her mom. They continued on in Japanese.  
"Well, the damage is done," her mother shook her head. "What do his parents do?"  
Mari bit her lip. "His mom is a social worker, his dad is a chef."

The mother gave a look of disappointment to her daughter. "Mari, you go to Harvard – you couldn't have chosen someone more… _refined_?"  
"He's plenty refined! Look at him!" He looked like something out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad – maybe minus the heavily defined abs.  
"Is that not Kanda's suit?"

Mari groaned. "He _can_ be refined," she corrected.

Mari's mother shook her head at her naïve child. "We are not in the business of turning frogs into a prince, Mari. This will not do. Not with everyone watching."  
"No one's watching me," Mari tried reasoning again. She was always forgotten. The middle child. "Why does it matter?" There were no expectations to fulfill – none that she had thought.  
"Is this your little attempt at calling for attention then, Mari?" the mother just couldn't understand what went on in her daughter's mind. It was all quite silly.

"No! How could you think that?"  
"First Harvard, then the wedding, and now _this_!" the mother listed. "You are so selfish, Mari. What will others think of us?"

Mari took a moment to have her mother's words sink in.

"I'll leave," she repeated. "It seems like all I am to this family is shame," Mari coldly added.

* * *

 _You've been different ever since we got back! Why won't you talk to me?_

 _What do you mean? I've been talking. I'm fine. We're fine._

 _You aren't fine. You refuse to talk about where this is going._

Kyouya grumbled to himself as he drank his morning coffee. Or at this point, noon coffee. He woke naturally half an hour ago, mostly because of the sun. The cool September air filtered through his windows overnight, a sign that autumn was knocking at the doorstep.

He had to admit, there were better things to listen to than the couple bickering next door.

 _You're only back for a week. Can we spend less time arguing and more time about us?_

 _How is the topic of our future_ not _about us?!_

Kyouya figured that they had been dating for a little over two years now. Trouble in paradise, it seemed.

 _Then what about the present? Why can't we just enjoy where we are?_

His hands reached over to put on some music through his Bluetooth speakers as he sipped the rest of his coffee. Kyouya stopped listening. Or… tried to, anyway.

* * *

He heard her talking on the phone sometimes. Her British accent became the most prominent when she spoke heatedly in arguments. Evidently Mari didn't have the time to consciously control her speech to become more American.

 _No, I don't just… talk things out with my family. That's… that's not what we do._

Kyouya could relate. He didn't speak to his family, unless completely necessary. Fuyumi called every so often, or texted to see if he was alive every few weeks. She complained often about how he never sought to care after his own sister because of the one-sided conversations.

 _I wasn't keeping anything from you. You knew fully well that my family came from privilege… okay, fair – maybe not to the extent that I had explained… but—_

Could he say that he was surprised? The Ootori shrugged. Mari had always been uncomfortable with where she stood. Never quite mingled with the rich, and never could – Mari was… rugged at the edges. Scuffed shoes, messy hair, and a wardrobe that belonged to some homeless person on the streets. She lived like a pauper.

 _Honestly? Yeah, my family does have a problem with you. But I don't – so what's the big deal here? It's not like they care about me or what I do—_

Kyouya exhaled. The troubles of dating a commoner was not easy in the social circle that they lived in. He _really_ should stop listening.

 _I have a midterm in 7 hours, can we not do this right now?_

And no matter how hard he tried – her voice kept filtering through the walls.

* * *

 _I can't see myself with someone whose family won't accept me._

 _For fuck's sake – they don't accept_ me _for what I am, so what's the point? I've lived in exile for pretty much my entire undergrad. Bryan, it's not… it's not a big deal._

 _How is that not a big deal? Do you not value your family at all? Mari, that's not something you should throw away._

Kyouya caught the end of the argument as he walked back home from class. He unlocked the door to his apartment and settled into his apartment after a long day. It would be the long weekend due to Thanksgiving – a well deserved break.

 _You don't understand._

 _Yeah, I really don't. I feel like I never really got to know you._

 _You know me; you've always known me._

 _What about your family that is so rich they practically own half of Tokyo's skyscrapers? Your sister is some sort of famous back in Japan now. And that you were a world-class pianist? Why didn't you freaking introduce yourself as Mari Takuya, Internationally Acclaimed Pianist from 4 years ago?_

Kyouya almost cringed as he listened to them argue. It was a sore spot for her. He didn't hear her say anything back for a long time. Enough so that he even got up from his chair to settle into more comfortable clothing. He even reheated leftovers for dinner.

 _Those were old wounds that I refused to open. This is enough for a night._

 _So you're just going to leave this? You won't even put effort into this relationship – how can we ever stay together like this? You never tell me anything. Everything is just skin deep._

Kyouya shut the microwave door and put on some music. It felt so wrong to eavesdrop…

And all this time, he couldn't help it.

* * *

Mari was stressed out. Between grad school applications, finals, and now – the loss of her best friend and significant other during her entire undergrad. The impending winter break became especially lonely the more she thought about it.

Her heart ached. Everything about her body felt heavy. It was a feeling that distracted her from doing the simple things. From eating, sleeping properly, and then being too exhausted to finding the focus to study for the last few classes of her degree.

Why did she feel so awful? It wasn't meant to be and Mari knew, at the very back of her mind, that Bryan would never really be someone she could end up with. She was hopeful though. Her naïveté got the best of her as she enjoyed the past few years in bliss. Mari genuinely believed that she could get away with it all – living freely without any expectations to fulfill.

"You alright?"

Mari looked up from the keyhole of her apartment door. Was she hallucinating? She heard Japanese.

The Ootori stood beside her, his head tilted in concern. He looked older now – less of a boy than she remembered and more of a rugged man that had seen better days. Finals were taking a toll on him too, it seemed. He still looked pristine, with a black wool coat and his hair swept smoothly to the side of his head.

"I could use a drink, to be honest," Mari answered, faltering back to the British accent that she was originally taught to speak.

There was no need to pretend. Not around him.

And for that, she exhaled out of relief.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Mari never quite appreciated wine as much as she could kick back with a good beer and music. But the Ootori was a man of what he considered to have _refined taste_ so Mari could only sit in his apartment and sip what was given: a bodacious red with hints of oak that was supposedly aged for decades in a barrel somewhere in Italy.

He kept his space clean. Minimal. Everything was in some sort of hue of grey. It was a true reflection of who he was. Mari could have sworn that his coffee table repelled dust. She could probably eat off the floor if needed.

"The last time I drank wine was two years ago at Kanda's wedding," Mari commented. "How things have changed since then," she reminisced.

"Have they?" Kyouya sat across from her on the couch with his own glass. He swirled the liquid before taking a sip.

"Well, we're graduating," she noted. "You seem to have done well for yourself. President of whatever business association there is," it was obvious Mari didn't really keep up with him. Only heard of him through the grapevine. "Winning case competitions. Networking. Working for your family's company during the summers. Probably holding a 4.0 GPA while doing it all."

"And you," Kyouya tipped his wine glass towards her. "You're published in two papers."

Mari chuckled. "I list off at least 3 achievements that you've accomplished and I… seem to only have two measly papers under my belt. Perhaps things haven't changed. I'm still mediocre and you're still the overachiever."

The Ootori blinked. "It isn't often that undergraduates have their names attached to published papers. You worked hard for those, I'm sure."

Mari sipped on the wine quietly. "I did," she admitted. It was odd taking a compliment from the Shadow King. Or Hades, as she used to call him. All those hours spent in the lab in her spare time between being in lectures, her own lab classes, and studying – they accumulated to two publications. Obviously, she wasn't the primary author – just her name tacked onto the publication. But still a decent start to academia, one would say.

"What's next?"

"Master's of Public Health here," Kyouya shrugged. "You?"

"Probably the same. But in science." Mari answered.

The Ootori raised an eyebrow at her. "You seem to… like academia?"

The girl shook her head. "No. It's a cutthroat environment… everyone just wants to get more funding and to publish as many papers as possible. But I very much enjoy being in the lab environment… and doing meaningful work, to a degree."

"And… staying as far away from Japan as possible," the Ootori pointed out.

Mari winced at the mention of their homeland. She took another large gulp of the wine.

"Yeah. That too," Mari murmured.

"I heard you have a nephew," he tried to make small talk.

Mari nodded. "Ryu. Born only a few weeks ago. Newest heir to the Takuya empire," she mocked. "Kanda's truly filling in the shoes of being the star first-born."

"So you don't have to?" Kyouya finished off her thought.

"Seems like I still have shoes to fill," Mari sighed. "They expect me to be back some time… at least to see my nephew."

"And your sister is…"

"Yeah, I don't know what she does," Mari rolled her eyes. "Something about being an influencer online… did you know that social media somehow makes you famous? I had no clue. I'm too old for this," she grumbled. "I spend far too much time in the lab, or in the library. All I know is that she's definitely not coming to Harvard for school and that's a blessing."

The Ootori smirked. It took more than just pretty pictures online to get into university, he thought to himself.

"Sorry," Mari sighed. "What about you? How are your siblings?"

He shrugged. "Wouldn't know. Don't care."

She blinked. At least he was relatable. Mari only knew what her sister did because her little sister texted her about suddenly having 2.5 million followers and counting. Kanda sent her pictures of Ryu when he was born. But otherwise, their contact was minimal. None of her siblings or her family would understand what she studied, or even cared to ask how things were going on her end.

"Wait, you're doing an MPH – I thought you were going to med school like your brothers?"

" _Why end up as clones of your brothers when you have to set yourself apart?"_ he quoted her.

Mari narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Wait, I said that?"

Kyouya nodded.

"Huh," Mari nodded to herself. "I didn't think you would take it to heart," she murmured. "I'm glad."

"Glad?" he repeated.

Mari smiled. "Yeah. Break out of that mold that you were expected to fulfill. Be you. Don't let others tell you otherwise. You carve your own path. No one else should have to do it for you."

"Is that what you're doing?" Kyouya wondered.  
She thought about it. "Maybe."  
"You defied everyone's expectations by coming here," he explained.

Mari laughed. "Everyone's expectations of me were too low to begin with."  
"Then why here?"

Mari shook her head. "I guess I just applied to see if I could do it. And I did. I guess I grew up always having low expectations of myself too and then… everything just fell into place. I worked hard enough to achieve everything that I wanted – I suppose no one else saw it that way. The height of my achievements will always be engraved in my piano playing, and never my diligence." She took another sip of the wine.

"Don't discount yourself," he chided.  
"I wasn't," Mari smirked. "But the rest of the world seems to."  
"I don't," Kyouya firmly replied. "You are intelligent. You've always been."  
"I feel like I would argue otherwise," she rolled her eyes. "You certainly didn't think so while we were in Ouran."

He stayed silent for a moment.

"I underestimated you," he admitted quietly.  
Mari put her empty glass of wine down. "Thanks," she rolled her eyes.  
"It was a mistake," Kyouya continued. "And I've learnt my lesson – it's a good thing I learn quicker than others, no?"

She laughed. A genuine laugh that he swore sounded better than how he remembered it.

"You're still insufferable," was all she could say.

* * *

He ran into her again during the first week of classes in the winter term. She held the elevator door open for him as he rushed to get on after his night class. Kyouya preferred taking his classes in the later part of the day – obviously as early mornings were not a good choice for him.

"Are you usually home this late?" Mari casually asked, leaning against the walls of the elevator.

"Yeah. Night class," he huffed. It was cold in Boston. He was still in the middle of trying to warm up. "You?"

"Late night at the lab," she explained. "Rough day, actually."

"Hm," Kyouya nodded. "Sorry to hear."

The elevator dinged at the floor that they both lived on. "It's fine. It's science," she sighed before stepping out of the elevator.

Kyouya watched as she walked to the doors of their respective units. Mari reached for her key and stuck it into the door before the Ootori could say anything,

"Are you busy?"

Mari blinked. "Well, I'd… like to sleep."

"Right," Kyouya awkwardly cleared his throat. "Of course. Good night."

The young woman chuckled. "Was this your way of asking to hang out? At 10:30 PM on a Friday night."

"If you aren't too tired," he offered. His words came out more robotic than intended. Why did he want this anyway?

She tilted her head. "Why? I mean, don't get me wrong – we're friends, I guess?" Mari found it odd to even call what they had friendship. Mari had friends who were only around because of proximity, in the lab or through class. Sometimes she'd show up to their gatherings or house parties. But no one as close as Bryan was to her. It hurt to think about so she continued. "But I still don't see what merit I bring to you for you to keep me around."

Kyouya couldn't answer that question either.

"Sorry, I must sound like such an asshole," Mari sighed. "I owe you a drink. A _commoner_ drink, if you will." They had a drink before their winter break had begun. It was the least she could do – this was probably the nicest she'll ever interact with the Ootori.

"How about my place in… 30 minutes? Get comfortable. Dress code is crimson," she stuck her tongue out before heading into her own unit. "I'll leave the door unlocked, so come whenever."

 _Crimson,_ he repeated to himself with a small smile. He could do that.

* * *

Mari took a quick shower and changed into her regular pajamas: the crimson Harvard crewneck with a pair of peppered sweatpants. Her contacts were out of her eyes for the day as she let her eyes rest with her glasses. She tied her hair back as she grabbed two beers from her fridge and turned on some music.

She sang and hummed along to the music as she continued making the playlist. Mari heard the door creak open to reveal Kyouya in a matching crewneck sweater with silk pajama bottoms. Mari sighed at the sight of his pants but figured that it was the best he could do as an obnoxiously rich person.

"What?" he narrowed his eyes.  
"Dress code is crimson. Well done," Mari gestured for him to sit on her couch. He did as told, taking the craft beer as offered.

"How was your winter break?" she casually asked while popping off the lid of the bottle. Mari sat back and took a swig of her beer. The Ootori eyed the bottle suspiciously and cautiously did the same.

"It was alright," he responded, cringing at the taste of the drink. Mari rolled her eyes.  
"It's really not _that_ bad," she sighed. "You'll learn to appreciate beer someday."

"I much prefer wine," Kyouya grumbled. "Did you stay here for the break?"  
Mari shook her head. "I actually went over to the UK to check out some schools. And of course… avoiding Japan, as per usual."

"You aren't staying here?" he was surprised to hear her plans. Of course he would be surprised – he never could quite understand Mari. Kyouya was trying his best.  
She chuckled. "I'm under good terms with my current supervisor. We've got some progress on a couple projects that he'd like me to stay on for my Master's. But I think I might do my doctorate over in the UK."

"Why not Japan?" Kyouya suggested. He realized it was a dumb suggestion when Mari chuckled at his response.  
"I'd like to _not_ go back to where we both came from. I don't think I'm really needed nor wanted." She took another sip of her beer. "I'm really only there for face value, nowadays." He could tell that she hated it all with a passion.

"You won't be able to avoid it forever," he reminded. Sooner or later, Mari would have to come back to Japan. She was born rich, and she would stay in the circles of their families unless they wanted a scandal to taint their reputation.  
"I know," Mari sighed. "I never quite understood why you kept bringing up my commoner friends at Ouran until I grew much older," she quietly admitted to herself, more so than to him. "Everything catches up to you."

"Boyfriend couldn't quite handle all the extravagance?" Kyouya made a bold move to bring up a topic that he knew didn't sit well with her. He was curious. She didn't seem to be the sort of person that would hold back in a fight. Mari narrowed her eyes.  
"He couldn't handle _me_ ," Mari corrected with a sigh. They didn't break up _because_ she was rich. According to him, she would never be as vulnerable as he was. Put as much effort as he did. Or ever loved him as much as he loved her. "Not really the best partner for life, I suppose."

Kyouya took another swig of beer. "A great lab partner though," he offered jokingly.  
Mari punched him playfully. "Yeah, that's all I'll ever be, really." She had to laugh as she shook her head at him.  
"You'd be a scientist."  
"Sure," Mari shrugged. "I like doing what I do. Drug research."

"Lucrative," Kyouya nodded.  
"What about you? Still want to be the heir?"  
"Why would that ever change?" the third son of the Ootori family shot her a glare.

Mari shrugged. "People change. Grow. Develop other passions. You know? No one ever stays the same."  
"Then how have you changed?" Kyouya scoffed.

She thought about the question seriously. More seriously than the Ootori intended the question to be. Mari took a sip of her beer.

"I don't know," she sighed. "According to my ex, I'm not capable of love. Or maybe not in the way he viewed love to be. So who knows, maybe that's what I've become. A monster," she half-joked.  
"Oh," the Ootori awkwardly cleared his throat. The conversation turned darker than he had thought.

"Maybe we weren't really raised to love, you know? In our circle, we all just marry for convenience. A business transaction. That's what Kanda and Emi are," Mari murmured. "Now they have a baby… truly, a transaction that cannot be returned."  
"You don't have to marry for a transaction," Kyouya pointed out. "Your brother already has."

Mari nodded. "I suppose. Would you marry for love, Kyouya?"

The Ootori took a long swig of the beer. He forced himself to swallow the carbonated wheat. It was basically liquid bread. He tried his best to keep a straight face.

"It could be one of the merits of marriage," he figured.  
Mari rolled her eyes. "So, no," she answered for him.  
"I would hope that we get along," Kyouya shrugged.

"Really, you'd be alright reducing your wife to some heir-producer?" Her tone told him to tread carefully.  
"It's a partnership," Kyouya explained.

"That's all it is…" she shook her head. "Damn, we really grew up in some twisted mentalities."  
"Well, would _you_ marry for love?" Kyouya turned the question over to her.

Mari contemplated the thought as she drank from her bottle.

"I wouldn't marry," she coyly answered. Mari always had a thing for breaking rules and expectations. "I don't believe in marriage. Not from what I've seen, anyway."

"Your parents married for love, did they not?"

Mari thought about it. Her family only recently found as much success as they did, probably in the last two decades. As long as Mari had been alive, business had grown immensely. The mansion was bought when she was only a toddler. She had grown up with housekeepers, gardeners, luxury vehicles, and private education for as long as she could remember. Family vacations were taken up until she was a preteen, and then both her parents became too caught up with the business to take any vacations to begin with. It was probably Kanda who still remembered what it was like to live like a middle class family.

"Maybe," she replied. "I don't really know for sure. I guess they did marry for love – we aren't really a family that has been tainted." No rumours of mistresses that were hidden in the shadows. No impending divorces that would call for a ridiculous settlement. No children who had to be hidden away because they brought disgrace to the family.

"Neither is mine," Kyouya pointed out. But he knew for a fact that his parents did not marry for love.

"Hm," Mari shrugged. "Like I said: marriage is overrated."

Kyouya nodded understandably. Mari watched as he drank from the bottle. It would probably take a couple more IPAs to get him to feel better about the whole craft beer scene, but at least it was a start.

"See, you get it," she sighed. "Everyone thinks we're too privileged to have problems, and I suppose that's true. But no one really understands the intricacies of the society we live in."  
"You think commoners live a simpler life?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow.  
"No," Mari shook her head. "Everyone has problems. We all lead complex lives. Our complexities just happen to be different. Perhaps more frivolous than the regular folk. But still… if I told you to dress the part to an event, you would _know_ not to wear shorts, right?"

Kyouya shot her a glare. As if _anyone_ in their right mind would wear _shorts_ to an event.

"Most people don't get that," Mari pointed out. "High society has all these unspoken rules that we learned to be a regular occurrence when it really isn't. You always seemed to not understand why I hung out with commoners. But imagine if you hadn't met Haruhi – how limited your perspective on the world would be," she explained.

"But by that logic," Kyouya was quick to defend their lifestyle. "Commoners also have a limited perspective on the world for not understanding how _we_ live."  
Mari shook her head. "We make up the 1% of the population. The world we live in is just a speck of dust in the midst of what everyone else in the world experiences. So no, their perspective is not limited."

Kyouya sat back on the other end of the sofa in defeat. Mari smirked.

"It's a revelatory experience, you know," she shrugged. "Suddenly being hyper-aware of your privilege and the way we've been raised. You work in healthcare. Learn to develop your business so that it is fully accessible to all classes of society."  
"And what will you do?" Kyouya rolled his eyes.

She looked him in the eye and spoke softly, with such determination and intent that it took him off guard. She always took him off guard.

"Stop people from committing suicide."

Mari watched as Kyouya slowly put down his bottle, processing what she had said. It was a dark topic. A serious one that obviously wasn't spoken about enough. It was evident that the Ootori was unsure of how to respond, so Mari didn't let him.

"I mean, that's the overarching plan. Develop drug therapies for mental illnesses," Mari explained. "I can only do what I can. And it's a complex problem with a lot to tackle but… I'm trying to do my part. So do yours in bringing better, more accessible healthcare," she urged.

"I didn't realize this was a ruse to push your agenda onto me," Kyouya pushed up his glasses. Mari rested her frames above her head, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long day in the lab.

"It wasn't intentional but," Mari sighed. "We're in a position to actually do something _right_ in a world that's just so… disappointing."

Kyouya looked at her with wonderment.

"Now you know," she took a sip from her beer as she shrugged. "My hopes and dreams," Mari sarcastically added. "Not that you would care, or that anyone would need to really know."

"Who else knew?" Kyouya pried.  
Mari crossed her arms, keeping the bottle close. She shook her head. "No one."

"Your boyfriend?"  
"Ex," Mari corrected. "He didn't know. He… he's right though – he never knew me. I was never as vulnerable as he was."  
"So why now?" Kyouya narrowed his eyes. "Why be vulnerable _now_?"

Mari smiled softly. The look in her eyes was apologetic.

"Redemption, maybe," she quietly answered. "I went to the UK but I also spent nearly a whole month by myself, and only myself. I had a lot of thinking to do. Who knows, maybe it's just because I feel comfortable with you. We grew up similarly, after all."

Kyouya nodded. "Well then… I'm glad."

Mari was fiercely independent. A force of her own. Kyouya knew better than to get in her way, especially after all these years. Every time he grew to be more impressed by her will and her aspirations. Truly, he thought she was someone worth watching out for.

What Kyouya could never decide was whether his curiosity was piqued out of professional reasons or… otherwise. The Ootori decided not to dwell on it.

He drank the rest of his beer pretending not to find the taste abhorrent.

"I'm glad we're friends," Mari softly smiled. "Even if it took a long time to get to this stage."

* * *

Neither of them attended convocation. Kyouya was too busy back in Japan working for the company. Mari spent her convocation in the lab busy working away, knowing that her family wouldn't bat an eye at the achievement of an undergraduate degree.

They both ran into each other over a year later. Mari had stayed behind immediately for graduate studies. Kyouya had gone back to Japan gain professional experience before continuing on with his own studies. He took note of her first, surprised her change in hair colour.

Mari gave a nod of acknowledgement to him when she recognized him, holding the elevator doors open for him when she watched him wheel in his luggage.

"New hair, new Mari?" he tried joking.

"New hair, new degree," Mari brushed off his comment coolly. "No, I just wanted a change from my usual black hair."

It was cut shorter to her shoulders, the curls reflected the grey-blonde strands nicely under the lighting. She looked happier. Mari flashed him a friendly smile. It was enough for him to look away. He wasn't sure how to respond to it. It had his heart beating faster than downing 3 shots of espresso.

"Japan was good?"  
"The usual," Kyouya responded evenly.  
"Jetlag must always be a bitch to deal with hm," Mari commented.  
"You get used to it."

Mari wordlessly helped him with his luggage when they got off the same floor.

"Let me know if you need anything," she politely left him to his neighbouring unit.  
"How about your company when I get up at 4 AM because of jetlag?"

Mari rolled her eyes.

"Your flirting game needs some work since you've retired from the Host Club." Mari stuck her key into the door and left him in the hallway.

Kyouya stood dumbly in front of his own door.

He wasn't trying to flirt. Not intentionally. But… was it _really_ that terrible? The man huffed and lugged his suitcases into his own apartment. His mood soured immediately – with a bruised ego, a lack of caffeine, and too many things on his to-do list that he had to tackle.

* * *

There was a knock on her door at 2 AM.

Mari was up late as she prepared for her committee meeting. She had mounds of literature papers strewn across her coffee table, kitchen counter, and sofa. The papers were highlighted, coffee stained, and crinkled. It was typical Mari fashion – her messiness never left her.

She opened the door, obviously annoyed at the intrusion.

It was Hades himself, complete with the glint of his glasses as he held his opened laptop on his arm. Mari huffed and crossed her eyes.

"What the hell?"

"Can you turn down your music?" Kyouya growled.

"What mu—" Mari turned around. "Oh."

Mari liked having background noise as she studied. What she didn't realize was that it was 2 AM and that her love for Beethoven had seeped through the walls more loudly than she had intended.

The grad student grimaced apologetically. "Okay so," she coughed. "I might have an issue trying to find the remote for the speakers because…"

Kyouya peered into her apartment behind her shoulder.

"Your apartment is _filthy_ ," he snarled. Kyouya didn't hesitate to express his criticism.  
"No," Mari disagreed. "It's just a lot of paper… but it's definitely somewhere under the papers. Aren't you jetlagged anyway? You don't have to sleep."

The Ootori shot her a glare.

"Sorry," Mari sighed. That was an unreasonable request. "I'll find it. Just um, give me… a few minutes." She turned around and left the door open. Naturally, Kyouya stepped in and watched as Mari tried to sort out her papers.

"Oh…" she muttered. "That's where this paper went… huh, I guess I printed two copies."

She was dressed rather pathetically. Her sweatshirt fell past her shoulders, leaving her collarbones exposed. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun with strands that had fallen out. Mari shifted her glasses from the top of her head to her eyes. She was still pretty, even after all these years. Something about her always had him staring, even if he didn't like to admit it.

Kyouya quietly watched as he made himself comfortable. She cleared off the kitchen table from all the articles she had been reading.

"Fucking hell…" Mari grumbled. "It has to be somewhere." She moved over to the couch and began digging through the seats.

Kyouya smirked to himself. It was amusing to him. He waited as Mari circled around the entire apartment cleaning up after herself. She threw piles of articles around as she dug around her apartment for one little metal remote. It was a great speaker system that she had inherited from Kanda. Surround sound around the entire apartment made gatherings and movies a lot more enjoyable.

Mari was obviously distressed when the remote had been in plain sight.

Kyouya had spotted the metal remote from eons away, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the coffee machine – far from all the papers she had been sorting through. He chuckled quietly to himself. He made his way towards her coffee machine. The pitcher was still warm. It was a fresh batch.

He helped himself to a cup of coffee, silently leaning against the counter while Mari groaned. Kyouya reached over to the remote and turned down the music instead, wondering if the young woman would notice.

"How the fuck…" Mari swore underneath her breath for the umpteenth time. She looked around to find the Ootori drinking _her_ coffee that she had brewed.

"Don't you have jet lag?! Why are you drinking my coffee?" Mari accused. "I have my committee meeting in 2 weeks. I need it _way_ more than you do, you prick."  
Kyouya coolly poured the coffee into another mug and offered it to her. "You made plenty."  
Mari's eyes narrowed at him. "I made plenty because I _needed_ all of it." She made her way over to him and accepted his offer.

"I hate you," she mumbled before taking a sip. It was at the perfect temperature. It gave her just a little bit of bliss in the chaotic world of grad school, and of course, in dealing with her intruder slash neighbour.

"Most people come over at 2 AM for a booty call, you know," Mari rolled her eyes.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you want?"  
Mari sputtered and choked on her coffee. "God no, not with you. You're like, _not_ friends with benefits material."

His ego was wounded for the second time of the night. Not that Kyouya would ever admit that, even to himself.

"Excuse me?"  
"Yeah," Mari rolled her eyes. "You're like… you know, _good son-in-law_ material. High earning potential. Great credentials. The kind of boy you'd bring home to spite an ex at their wedding or something, but not a casual relationship."  
"What?" Kyouya was flabbergasted. Why was he even offended at this?

Mari raised an eyebrow. "What, as if _you're_ looking for a hookup?"  
The Ootori blinked. "Well, does that mean you are?"  
Mari laughed. "God, I spend more time in the lab than hooking up. Please, Kyouya. Let's be real."  
"T-then why did you bring up the 2 AM comment?" he asked, exasperated by this emotional rollercoaster.

The young woman shrugged. "I was making a joke. American humour, I guess. Perhaps it's too crude for your pompous ass." Mari had to laugh at his discomfort.

"What?" he shot her a glare.

"You just… are so uncomfortable," Mari pointed out. "It's so out of character for you."

Kyouya put down his mug and leaned closer to her. He placed his arms on the counter trapping Mari against the granite. She leaned back and narrowed her eyes.

"Is this supposed to make me feel uncomfortable?" Mari scoffed. "Please, I can play this game too." She placed a hand against his chest and leaned towards his face. She became dangerously close, so close that Kyouya could smell the coffee on her breath and the sweet tangerine scent of her tied up hair. She narrowly missed his lips to whisper something in his ear.

"If you're thinking of making a move, this really isn't how I would do it," she teased. She gently pushed him away from her with only one hand, the other gripping her mug steadily. Mari smirked at him.

"Bit rusty since the Host Club, aren't you?"

Kyouya huffed and picked up his mug again.

"Where'd you learn that?" his voice low.  
Mari shrugged. "Where do you think?"

The Ootori took a sip of her coffee. "I see you've been… busy."  
"Yes, with grad school," the woman shot back. "Not sure what you're trying to insinuate here."  
"You know exactly what I'm insinuating," Kyouya rolled his eyes.  
"Does that make you think any less of me?" Mari raised an eyebrow at him. "Because I'm pretty sure I had the upper hand back there."

Kyouya only sipped his coffee, refusing to comment.  
"I mean, I'm sure plenty of girls would love to be with you while you are back in Japan," Mari offered. "Yet none can tame Hades, can they?"

The Ootori tilted his head.

"Mari, are you flirting with me?" he half-accused. She shrugged.  
"I'm sleep deprived and I haven't had any fun for the past few weeks – so yeah, allow me to squeeze just a bit of amusement out of my friend from high school."

"Amusement?"  
The girl gave a coy smile. "Don't lie. Your ego is bruised as hell right now."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. Mari took that as a yes.

"Hey, it's fine," she laughed. "You're here for a while. Go out. Have some fun. I'm surprised you aren't engaged yet, to be honest."  
"As if you'd know," he grumbled. "You haven't been back in years."

"I don't have to go back to keep tabs on the Ootori family," Mari pointed out. "News in our high society circles travels fast."  
"Fair," Kyouya nodded. "But _this_ is what you consider fun?"

He swiftly reached down to her lips, pulling her closer by the waist. He was trying to prove a point. Mari smiled into the kiss and pulled away first. He chased after her lips, quickly closing the gap again. He craved her, he had unwittingly been deprived of her after all these years.

"Okay," Mari nodded. "Good move," she admitted. "Sorry I doubted that you actually _had_ the guts to make a move."

"I wasn't aware that you wanted me to make one," Kyouya murmured, his hands rested around her waist naturally. She leaned against the counter, her hand still holding onto her mug. She looked up at him as she relaxed at his touch.

"I didn't," Mari laughed. "But you're surprisingly good at kissing."

His ego was bruised for the third time that night.

* * *

It began as a means of proving a point.

But a part of him had to admit, she became the highlight of his day.

Knocking on his door, he already knew it was her. Mari held up a bottle of wine, the maroon colour of her sweater dress matching the label of the alcohol. Her eyes were accentuated by a new frame of glasses. Kyouya could hear her heels through the hallway.

"Committee meeting went well?"

"Could've been worse," Mari responded, slipping around him to go into his apartment. She unzipped her knee-high boots and made herself comfortable in the kitchen. She stretched to grab the wine glasses off the shelves of the cupboard. Kyouya had one arm on her waist as he easily got the other wine glass off the shelf for her.

"Thanks," she murmured. "But I wasn't really planning to share," Mari joked.

He turned her around by the waist to face him. Her eyes widened before she cracked a smile up at him. The Ootori was smoother than she thought he was.

"This is my apartment," he reminded. "I set the rules."

She shrugged, unfazed by his low voice. The dark lipstick became more of a distraction to him than he thought. He wanted to run his hand through her dyed hair. It was neatly placed in a bun, complemented by diamond studs on her ears. "But I brought the wine."

It was good wine too. Imported from Italy, aged for half a century. While Mari preferred beer, she knew what good wine was meant to be like. She figured he would appreciate the bottle, much more than she would anyway.

"Corkscrew?" she asked.

Kyouya opened a drawer next to them and handed over the tool. Her long fingers grazed his own, lingering for a moment. Mari opened the bottle with ease, the pop of the corkscrew itself was heard across the entire unit. She poured for the both of them and handed him a glass.

"How were your first few weeks of class?"  
The Ootori shrugged. "Same old."

"Aren't you supposed to have at least 5 years of work experience to even get into this program?"  
"Even more impressive that I'm here then, isn't it?" Kyouya pointed out.

Mari sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. The degree is just another piece of paper for you, anyway." He could pay for as much as it costed and probably ten times over. With his lineage and family business, it was no wonder that he ended up here.

"What about your degree?"

The grad student blinked. "I probably have to work ten times harder than you do to get one data set to be reproducible. So, ultimately, I would argue that my degree is more valuable than yours."

Kyouya sipped the wine and nodded.

"What?" Mari was expecting a comeback.  
"I agree," he shrugged. "Research is more difficult than writing a few papers and sitting in a few lectures to get the required number of credits."

Mari blinked before clinking her glass with his. "You're not as insufferable as you used to be."

She smiled at him and he immediately lost his train of thought. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol. Or on the jetlag after being back for two weeks. Kyouya carefully placed his own glass on the kitchen island.

"What are you doing?" Mari leaned back when he took a few steps forward.

"I'm not sure," he whispered. His large hands slowly cupped her jaw while the other carefully placed the wine glass aside on the counter. He swiftly reached down to her dark red lips, as soft and supple as he had remembered them from a few weeks ago.

He felt her hesitation.

It was purely physical, Mari thought to herself. He wasn't here for any commitments – she wasn't the kind of girl he could ever bring home. Mari on the other hand, was far from someone who needed to be in a relationship.

"Fuck it," she muttered under her breath when he pulled away slightly. Her hand was quick to pull him back down hungrily.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Kyouya never really liked being in Boston. Winters were too brutal. Summers were hardly spent here. He never fit in with the culture and never quite understood the loud obnoxious ways of most Americans.

And then there was her.

Her American accent had gotten better over the years. She blended in with the crowds like a chameleon, saying hello to people she ran into on campus every other hour. The way she navigated every conversation with ease, her smile and her energy always brought a warmth to the room.

And there he was.

Lurking around her, sinking into the background. He was invisible next to her.

Mari Takuya's name was attached to publications, awards as a teaching assistant, graduate student associations, and school articles or newsletters that surrounded her research with her principal investigator. Kyouya sat in the graduate lounge and read through every single article – obviously impressed by her achievements. It was obvious she was well-loved by all her peers and the faculty just by how she walked around campus with him.

 _"Is she single?"  
_ _"No idea. But I hope she is. Class just got ten times better with her teaching it."  
_ _"Dude, there's a rule against dating TAs, you know?"  
_ _"Whatever man, we can wait until this class is over."_

Kyouya glanced out the doorway to find a pair of students walking down the hall.

 _"Oh, Mari? Yeah, I had her before in an organic chemistry lab. You're pretty much set to do well if you ask her the right questions."  
_ _"Oh good. She seems nice."_

More students trickled out of the staircase. A whole swarm of undergraduates seemed to have gotten out of a class, one that Mari had been teaching. Another graduate student entered the lounge and glared at the Ootori who had been sitting on the sofa, scrolling through some articles on his laptop.

"This is for pharmacology students only," they informed.  
"I'm here for Mari," Kyouya responded in the same factual tone.  
"Mari? Ha, as if. Get in line, buddy." The grad student rolled his eyes and popped his dinner into the microwave.

The Ootori narrowed his eyes.

"Are you here to drop off a sample for her? Or like, sneak a peek at the hotshot of the pharmacology department?" the guy winked. "Both?"

"None of the above," Kyouya grumbled.

"Yo listen, we've all tried to make moves on her and she—"

Mari poked her head through the graduate lounge and caught the men in the midst of a conversation about her.

"Chill, Marcus," Mari rolled her eyes. "He's a high school classmate."  
"Huh," Marcus nodded with sympathy for the stranger. "Friend-zoned since the beginning of time… tough luck buddy."

The Ootori's lips pursed into a thin line. Mari could feel the rage emanating from the Shadow King and stepped in between them. She crossed her arms and faced her classmate. Marcus had only recently started in the same lab as she did.

"Okay, but for real Mari, what would it take for any of us to date you?" Marcus was blunt. Mari knew he was joking, especially when he had his own fair share of girls that pined over him. He wasn't lacking any attention. He was the definition of being tall, dark, and handsome.

"A doctorate degree," Mari rolled her eyes. "Which neither of you have."  
"But what about that post-doc who asked you out?"  
Mari shrugged. "He was alright."  
"Alright?"  
"Well, he left for California," she pointed out. "No point in starting anything there."

Kyouya was unsure how to feel about Mari's dating history being aired out. Evidently Mari didn't care. Marcus sure as hell didn't seem to mind digging deeper.

"Heard there was a doctor somewhere in the mix."  
"Resident," she corrected. "Yeah, he was nice."  
"Nice?"  
"Well, he's a surgeon so – no time," Mari shrugged. "And I didn't have time either. Thank god that paper got published last year. Otherwise, everything would have gone to waste."

Another grad student walked into the lounge. She was blonde and only a little taller than Mari. She must have also only been a little older than Mari.

"Are we talking about Kevin? The neuro resident?"  
"Yeah," Marcus piped up. "Hey, Liann."  
"Ooooh," Liann gushed. "He was hot. Can't believe you didn't lock him down, Mari."

Mari smiled. "I wasn't looking for anything serious."  
"Was he?" Marcus asked with widened eyes.

"Nope," Liann answered for him. "He saw her at a conference. Then asked to collaborate on a project with her PI and literally used it as an excuse to see her again so he could hook up with her."

Mari face palmed. "It was a valiant effort, guys…"

Marcus smirked. "Oh trust me, a lot of people would go through a lot of effort for you, Mari. But you just refuse to settle. You've got doctorates, actual doctors, and who knows – maybe a CEO coming after you next. Your life is a rom-com."

She sighed and turned to the Ootori.

"There you go: an abridged version of my dating history," Mari explained to Kyouya.  
"Since Bryan!" Liann piped up.

Liann was a PhD candidate who had overseen Mari since her undergraduate years. They were close, or at the very least, close enough to casually talk about their romantic lives. They had known one another for almost 6 years now.

"So, who's this?" the blonde cocked her head towards the stranger in the graduate lounge. He was well-dressed with his hair swept to the side. He was like a cut out from a magazine for glasses, Liann thought.

"A high school classmate who's been friend-zoned," Marcus answered devilishly.  
Liann winced at the title. "Yikes. Sorry to hear that."

Kyouya huffed and closed his eyes in an attempt to stay calm.

Mari shook her head with a smile. "Guys, be nice. His name is Kyouya. We went to high school together. He started his Master's in Public Health in the beginning of the year," Mari introduced.

"Kyouya Ootori," the guest clarified.  
"Ootori," Liann repeated. "Where have I heard that before?"

Mari shook her head, feigning ignorance. "No clue. Doesn't matter. We're going to go catch up." She swiftly began to make her exit and told Kyouya to do the same. The two high school classmates shuffled out of the graduate lounge and left behind the nosy grad students.

Kyouya was obviously irritated and Mari couldn't help but to smile as they walked home.

"They don't mean any harm," she tried. "They're nosy but they won't bother you if you tell them you're uncomfortable."  
"Do they know everything about your romantic life?" Kyouya narrowed his eyes.

Mari shrugged. "I would like to think that my reputation in academia overshadows my personal life. Those who bring up my personal life know that I'm much more than just who I'm dating. Besides, it isn't like I don't know who Marcus has been hooking up with lately. Or the entire saga of Liann and her fiancé."

It still didn't make him feel better and he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"Oh come on, as if you haven't dated people?" Mari rolled her eyes.

The Ootori stayed silent and continued walking.

Mari stopped in her tracks. "Oh," she blinked. "You really haven't."

It wasn't like he had the time to date. Or any interest in dating anyone, to be quite honest. But Mari didn't know that. She had been far too removed from the upper class to remember that any sign of him being in a relationship would lead directly to marriage. Either that, or a scandal. Mari had been living in bliss with as much freedom as needed to start any kind of relationship she chose to.

"This is a good opportunity, you know," she urged. "Get out there. Date people. See what else is there besides the bimbos that you're someday destined to marry," Mari chuckled.  
"I don't have time," he grumbled.  
"Oh, but you had time to sit at the graduate lounge for about an hour before I finished with my class?" the woman teased.  
"What would be the point?" the Ootori rolled his eyes. "As you said, I'm destined to marry some bimbo anyway."

"Fight the system, of course. Break the rules. Come on, be rebellious," Mari reminded. Of course she would be the one to encourage this. She was always someone who liked to bend rules and expectations. She had always defied what was expected of her, after all. "You shouldn't have to be what everyone expects you to be if you don't want it."

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "This is terrible advice."

"I'm just saying," Mari shrugged. "No one knows who you _really_ are here. Maybe you'll find someone who you really connect with. Actually marry for the right reasons."  
"I'll still get a pre-nup," the Ootori muttered.

Mari playfully shoved him off the pavement.

"That wasn't the point. You're such an idiot."

* * *

 _An abridged version of my dating history._

 _As if you haven't dated people…_

Her soft hair would spill over to his pillow. He'd keep her close by the waist with one arm as he nuzzled her neck. He'd fall asleep within minutes. These nights came occasionally, always taking him by surprise.

And every time, she would be gone by morning. She started her days early. In between teaching classes, being in the lab, and writing nowadays – Mari had little time to lose. He on the other hand, had classes to attend and assignments to fulfill. He was here to study, after all.

Kyouya woke to an empty bed. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was well past noon at this point.

He reached for his glasses by the night stand. A sheet of paper fell.

 _Good luck on your presentation!_

He mentioned it once. Mari had always been attentive to the details. It was no surprise that she became a researcher, paying attention to the minute details of whatever she studied. Kyouya appreciated the sentiment even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

He reluctantly got up and brushed his teeth.

 _"You know this is just… physical, right?"_ Mari was clear in her intent. " _I'm not the kind of person to play games with people's emotions."_

" _Of course,"_ he scoffed. A part of him wondered if he answered too quickly.

" _As long as we're clear,"_ she looked into his eyes for any form hesitation before closing the gap between them. Her hands were quick to run through his hair as he naturally found her lips again. It became like clockwork after a while. She knew every groove of his body, and he knew every single crevice of her body that had her shivering under his touch.

He groaned just thinking about her. He splashed cold water onto his face in an attempt to clear his mind. Mari clouded his thoughts whenever his mind wasn't on school or the corporation.

 _"Hey, what do you think about Penelope?"_ Mari showed him a picture. They were sitting on his couch eating takeout. " _Law student."  
_ Kyouya glanced at her phone. " _What about her?"  
_ " _Would you go on a date with her?"_

The Ootori rolled his eyes. " _I told you, I don't have time to date."  
_ " _Okay,"_ Mari nodded, thinking about it some more. " _Hook up with her then?"  
_ " _No,"_ he firmly answered. " _Why are you obsessed with finding me a partner?"  
_ " _I'm just trying to remind you that I'm not the only fish in the sea! I'm not even an option. You deserve options.  
"_ _I don't need any,"_ Kyouya reassured. " _You're already a handful."  
_ " _That's definitely not what you thought last night,"_ Mari smirked.

Mari was not the kind of young woman to bring home, and she knew that. Kyouya knew that. She was the middle child of a real estate tycoon who was nowhere to be seen in their circles since she had left overseas. No one remembered who she really was to begin with. She was nothing special. A former musician.

But god, she was _so_ much more than what the upper class remembered her to be.

 _My reputation in academia overshadows my personal life._

She was confident. She was accomplished and so intelligent. She was exciting, daring, and adventurous. But most of all, Mari was so much more than some other heiress who would spend over a million dollars in an afternoon buying luxurious goods. The world didn't know that. The world didn't care for that.

He was lucky to get to know her. The _real_ Mari – the one who had blossomed from the explosive emotional wreck that he once thought of her as. She was a dear friend, someone he was relieved to have kept close after all these years.

But she wasn't looking to marry, ever. And quite frankly, Kyouya wasn't in the market to marry.

What they had was fine. More than enough.

Or so he thought.

* * *

"So, that guy."

Mari sat at her lab bench across from Liann. It was a day of experiments for the both of them. Mari was reaching the end of her degree and she was wrapping up the last set of her experiments. The two were dressed in their stained lab coats with only the sound of the fumehood in the background.

"Which guy?" Mari narrowed her eyes.

"Ootori," Liann clarified. "I looked him up. How do you know one of the sons of the Japan's biggest private healthcare companies?"  
The grad student sighed. "We went to high school together, remember?"

"So," Liann tried to put the pieces together. "You went to a high school with…"  
"Basically the richest, most snobby kids in all of Japan," Mari explained.

Liann blinked. "Okay, so what about you?"

"My family is rich. I'm just… here," Mari mindlessly refilled pipette boxes. She waited around for her samples to incubate and decided to do menial housekeeping tasks around the lab. "I don't like being associated with that crowd."  
"But you hang around that dude," Liann pointed out.

Mari looked up from the bench and shrugged. "You know, we were lab partners in high school right?"  
"Oooh," Liann smirked. "That's cute. Budding high school romance."

"No," Mari shook her head. "There was none of that. We were mortal enemies."  
"And now?"

Mari thought about it. "I think we're good friends now. We've both grown since our high school days."  
"That's it?" the PhD student groaned. "You're not going to lock down one of the richest guys in Japan?"  
"He's really kind of a prick," Mari explained. "But he's bearable after a decade. I don't know, I mean we hook up from time to time out of convenience. He's my neighbour too."

Liann's jaw dropped.

"Oh my god, how can you just _say_ these things without blinking an eye?"

Mari shrugged. "I don't know, I mean. It's physical. I'm not the kind of girl to bring home to his family. He's not the kind of guy I see myself with on a long-term basis. I think we're at a good place right now."

"Mari! He's _totally_ into you," Liann groaned. "Did you not see the way he looked at you in the lounge? He was absolutely mortified when we aired out your dating history. He couldn't even pass the first test."

"He probably doesn't care. Besides, he probably thinks I sleep around a lot." Mari didn't give too much thought to what the Ootori thought of her. She was only around for a couple more months, anyway.

"You don't sleep around," Liann pointed out. "You pretend like these relationships don't mean anything but god, I swear you were at least a _little_ heartbroken when Peter moved to California."

The girl in question tilted her head and thought about it. It was months ago now. "Well, I produced a lot of data during those months of being heartbroken. Consider it as a great trigger for being a productive researcher."

"Yeah but gosh, you deserve happiness too, you know," Liann softly reminded. "I'm not saying _love_ is the answer to happiness. You deserve to be taken care of just as much as you take care of others."

Mari sighed.

"I don't know. I've never been good at this."

* * *

Mari sat at the kitchen island drinking beer while she scrolled through the pages of her thesis. Her defense was scheduled in a few months and she did most of her writing at night across from him. The company of one another became a regular thing as the weather grew colder.

Kyouya learned to tune out her music. In fact, often times he preferred listening to her hum along to whatever she played from her laptop. She bobbed her head with the beat, singing softly along to a few lines at a time.

He noticed when she grew conscious of her singing, quieting down immediately.

"I don't mind," he told her. "You sing well."

"Mmhm," she took another swig of her beer. "It's fine, you can tell me if it's annoying. We're past the point of being polite – not that you were ever polite to begin with," Mari rolled her eyes.

Kyouya scoffed. "Neither were you."

Mari shrugged. "Like I said, no need to be polite. If I'm being intrusive or if you would like to retire for the night – let me know."  
Kyouya swirled the wine in his glass. "I'd prefer a more interesting conversation."

The woman raised an eyebrow and glanced back at her paper on her laptop screen. Well, at the very least – whatever conversation Kyouya had in mind would be eons more exciting than what she was in the midst of writing.

"You sing. You tap your fingers on surfaces as a means of fidgeting, but your muscles remember the keyboard still. Why do you bury that part of yourself?"

Mari looked back down at her monitor. She could pick her poison tonight. Either she toiled over another portion of her paper or she decided to rip open her chest and analyze why she did that to herself.

"I need more alcohol for this," Mari muttered. She chugged the rest of her beer and looked at the Ootori expectantly. Kyouya was quick to grab another glass from the cupboards and poured her the rest of his bottle.

"I don't bury it," she corrected him after taking a sip of her wine. "I've evolved from it. There's a stark difference, Kyouya. I'm not defined solely as a pianist. I'm a student, a mentor, a scientist, a friend. I don't actively avoid playing the piano – I've just grown from it."

Kyouya nodded. "I see. You needed alcohol for that?" He refused to believe that her explanation was complete. Of course, Mari had grown from being a professional pianist. He knew that. Her peers, the entire faculty, and world of academia knew who Mari Takuya was.

"My piano teacher died," Mari reminded him, her eyes growing distant. She looked down at her wine glass and took another large gulp of her wine. "She committed suicide and I couldn't stop her." Mari closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you have any more?"

Kyouya didn't realize that she had already been making her way towards the wine cooler to grab another bottle. He gently took away the bottle from her and put the corkscrew away before Mari could get to it.

"That's enough," he whispered. "I apologize. I wasn't aware."

Mari looked up at him with eyes that challenged him to try to take away the bottle from her. He hardly resisted her firm grip to grab the merlot away from him and easily shuffled past him to grab the corkscrew.

"Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers for, Kyouya," she chided. He heard that phrase before. She told him the same thing years ago at Ouran. The pop of the cork echoed through the room. Mari didn't bother pouring out the wine and instead, drank from the bottle. She turned to face him. "What were you expecting?"

Kyouya shook his head. "Not that." He was still at a loss.

Mari couldn't help but to chuckle. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel guilty. I don't talk about it because it isn't a topic that people want or need to hear about. But it… it was a defining period of my life that affected every decision that came after it."

"Do you still go to counselling?" he asked, curious.  
"Not since Ouran," Mari admitted. "Therapy was good. Helped me process a lot of my feelings and to look at her death in a rational manner. I don't think I would have ended up here without proper counselling."

Kyouya nodded understandably.

"I still… feel guilty," she murmured. Mari took another gulp of wine. She was already a third of the way through the bottle. "I know I shouldn't. I was 16. I wasn't prepared to deal with something like that. But god, I watched the paramedics wheel her lifeless body into the ambulance and I felt so alone. And then you spiral into the whole thought of _her_ being so alone to the point where she decided to take her life."

Mari sighed and exhaled. "It's not right. She needed someone. I wasn't that person. I wasn't enough. And that was a lot for a 16 year old," she sighed. "It's still a lot for a 23 year old," Mari added.

"I'm sorry," He couldn't offer her anything else. She shrugged and drank again from the bottle.

"Don't be," Mari reassured. "See? This is why I needed a drink," she tried to steer the conversation to something more lighthearted.

Kyouya reached for the glass bottle carefully. He was so gentle in his touch, almost afraid of scaring her away. He gave her a pleading look and she reluctantly gave it to him with a frown. It wasn't healthy to be drinking this much, not in a night anyway. He put the wine bottle on the counter.

What she didn't expect was the warmth that she felt against her body. He carefully placed his arm around her waist and let her rest her head against his shoulder. Kyouya could only hold her while she was in this vulnerable state.

"I don't know what else to tell you," he softly admitted. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Mari whispered. "It wasn't mine, either. I know. It was out of my control, I—"

"No," he cut her off. "I could have been better to you."

Mari sighed and held him back. It felt natural. How she fit so perfectly underneath his chin. He stroked her back soothingly. "I was dealing with a lot and you were just… well, you were just a product of the 1%. In hindsight, we were just kids. I never held it against you."

They were just kids. Now they were full-grown adults who bickered with each other like they were still teenagers. They had come such a long way, growing immensely since their high school years, chose their paths that they thrived upon, and somehow they still found themselves intertwined no matter where they travelled.

Mari pulled away and exhaled. Her surroundings were fuzzy and only he was in focus. _Oh_ , she thought to herself. She was sufficiently drunk. Enough for the nerves to be gone. Enough for things to seem funnier than they really should. _It wasn't the worst thing to be_ , Mari figured. Kyouya watched her with concern, unsure of what she was going to do next.

"Thank you," she gave him a small smile. He spent the night trying to console her on something that he wouldn't ever quite understand. But he tried and for that, Mari was grateful.

Kyouya could have sworn that his breath hitched. The way she looked at him was enough for him to lose his train of thought for the umpteenth time he was with her. He couldn't even pinpoint why he felt the way he did when he was around her. Was it her silky long hair? The dyed ends let him spot her from a mile away. Was it her brown eyes that were accentuated by the most delicate lashes? Her lips that were painted in the warmest hue of nude? He was at such a loss that he was unsure of what to do next. His head was clouded with thoughts.

So she did it for him. She pulled him down and pressed her lips against his firmly. She did it with such confidence, quick to make him feel like he was on top of the world. She chose _him._ Of all the men that had pursued her, Mari kissed _him_.

And so the cycle began again.

 _It's just physical,_ she told herself.

 _She's still not meant for you,_ he told himself.

* * *

He knocked on her door after class a little after 4 PM. It became a usual routine. Friday nights with terrible takeout and whatever alcohol they had on hand. He expected her to tell her what she wanted to eat for the night but instead, Mari poked her head through the door grimacing.

"Can I take a rain check on this?" She opened the door to reveal her outfit. She wore a high-necked white dress that hugged her figure. She was in the midst of trying to put on a stack of dainty gold bracelets. Kyouya gently took her wrist and clasped the jewelry on her.

"Are you going out on a date?" he raised an eyebrow at her, masking his distaste at the thought. He could feel the rage brewing within.

Mari laughed. "Geez, this is a lot of effort for a date…" she rolled her eyes. "No, there's a formal for all graduate students in the chemistry department. I was told specifically to go or I'd be murdered by my entire lab."

Her makeup done was simple. Her eyes were accentuated by a set of long lashes, foregoing the need for any heavy eyeliner or eyeshadow. Her cheekbones were chiseled and glowed under beneath the light. Her lips were a deep hue of red. Kyouya was drawn to those lips more than he should have been.

"I still have to do my hair," Mari sighed. "But yeah, I figured that I should go. This is my last year at Harvard. Or really, last few months."

"Can I come?" Kyouya blurted, his anger dissipating almost immediately after her explanation.

Mari squinted her eyes, as if she had heard incorrectly. "Um. I don't see why you would want to. You wouldn't know anyone. Everyone's kind of a pretentious academic. But hey, I guess if you wanted to fit in – your snobbery could do you well in this," she joked.

The Ootori rolled his eyes at her comment.

Mari shrugged. "I leave in an hour. If you can get yourself ready for a formal by then… I guess you can come and meet my friends."

Kyouya showed up at her door within the hour. He was dressed in an impeccable suit. From head to toe, Mari could note that his suit was Armani with his Italian leather shoes. She raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. It took him half an hour to look this put together, and it took her an hour and a half. Kyouya stepped into her apartment wordlessly, waiting for Mari to put her shoes on.

"Do you think we've overdressed?" Mari thought out loud. Formal events for commoners were their _casual_ events. She looked at herself in the mirror behind the door and wondered if it was all too much. Kyouya silently offered his arm for her to balance as she put on her Louboutins.

"No," Kyouya chuckled as he answered her question.

"Maybe I should wear flats for something more casual? Or wear my hair down so it's not too—" she rambled to the point where Kyouya gave a small smile at her silly concern.

"You look perfect," the Ootori softly told her.

 _You look perfect_ , she repeated to herself. His voice never faltered at the statement. He meant every word. He nodded at her reassuringly.

"You really do," Kyouya whispered.

"Okay," she breathlessly responded. "If you say so." Mari kissed him on the cheek in thanks.

* * *

Kyouya was used to being in the shadows, silently trailing behind the woman who made her rounds across the room speaking to her peers, the faculty, and everyone else in between. He quite enjoyed watching her converse – she was well-respected by all, humble in her achievements, and always exchanged pleasantries with anyone she knew.

Liann snuck up to the Shadow King while Mari spoke to a professor, updating them on the progress and the scheduled end of her thesis.

"You've been following her like a puppy all night," a voice caught his attention. Kyouya recognized the blonde as one of the two graduate students he met in the lounge.  
"Well, where else would I be?" the Ootori shrugged.  
"At home, of course." The PhD candidate laughed. "I asked if you were coming and she told me no. What made her change her mind?"

Kyouya blinked. "She didn't want me to come?"  
Liann raised an eyebrow. He wasn't as bright as she thought he was. "She said it was pointless if you didn't know anyone. Which is true, I suppose. But who knows what goes on in that mind of hers. Mari is a brilliant researcher but an absolute disaster sometimes."

The Ootori tilted his head at her, coaxing her to continue.

"Well," the blonde raised an eyebrow. "What are you two? Are you guys dating or what?"  
Kyouya shrugged. "That's none of your business."  
Liann scoffed. "Right. So, just undefined forever."

"Pretty much," the Ootori agreed. "We have more things we dislike about each other than what we tolerate."  
"Oh. Like what?"

The Ootori glanced at the woman who challenged him. Liann was curious to hear it more than anything.

"She's disorganized."  
"Oh, yes," Liann agreed. "Her desk is just piles upon piles of paper. But her lab bench? Impeccable."  
"She's hotheaded," Kyouya added.  
Liann smirked at the statement. "Yeah, when she doesn't get her way. But I've never felt like she wasn't justified when she's angry or stubborn about something."  
"Oblivious to her potential," he listed another one.

The woman narrowed her eyes before smiling deviously. "You know, that doesn't sound like an awful quality."  
Kyouya frowned. "She refuses to use the resources to get ahead."  
"You mean… she's rich?" Liann chuckled. "Look at what she's wearing. Everything about her screams that she was raised rich. From her shoes to her diamond earrings that probably cost the amount of funding I get in a year."

Kyouya glanced at Mari. Her hair was swept up in a French bun, her fingers gripped her grey clutch as her other hand was used to illustrate her point across. A bright smile was plastered across her face as she was in her element, talking about her passion. Mari was the most beautiful when she was happy.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Liann read his mind. "She's so genuine and everyone can see it. When I first met her, she was so bright-eyed and passionate about doing research. Mari loves what she does and she never hesitates to help anyone who needs it."

Kyouya nodded. Mari was kind to people who she believed was deserving of it. But she was never naïve enough to believe in him. She was a good judge of character and had always been.

"She seems perfect in every way imaginable," Liann continued. "She loves her work. She could dedicate her entire life to science and be alright. Mari would be fulfilled knowing that others will be fulfilled. But that's not right, you know? She deserves happiness too."

"She isn't happy?" the Ootori squinted. She looked quite content to him.

"Oh, she's ecstatic," Liann laughed. She loved watching Mari ramble about data and the peculiar things she loved about her research. "Mari could talk about drug delivery and pharmacology all day. But she… deserves more than that, you know? Her life deserves more than just her academic career. No doubt, she'll be fine professionally. I worry about her personally."

The Ootori shrugged.

"She doesn't talk about her family," Liann noted. "In all the years I've known her – she never spoke about her parents or siblings if she had any. She doesn't talk about her childhood. You are the closest thing I know about her before America."

"Interesting," he nodded to himself.

"So," Liann crossed her arms. "What do you think?"  
"About what?"  
"About Mari and how she pushes away people and any possibility of being happy."

He didn't know what to say. He was still in the process of understanding everything that been said between them. It was a lot to digest.

"You're useless," Liann grumbled. "Can't you see? She deserves someone who can take care of her so she can stop taking care of everyone else around her. She gives and gives, but never receives."

"Does she?" Kyouya wondered. "What has she given me?"

Liann shook her head and shrugged.

"You answer that yourself."

* * *

Tamaki insisted on visiting Kyouya when he and Haruhi settled in Boston. Kyouya wanted to meet the two at a local upscale restaurant in the heart of downtown for lunch, but the goddamn friend showed up to his door instead. Tamaki was knocking repeatedly until it annoyed the Shadow King enough to get out of bed.

"Oi!" he greeted bright and early at 10 in the morning. Kyouya was seething when he opened the door. "Oh don't give me that look, Kyouya. You're happy to see me, aren't you?"

"I really am not," Kyouya growled.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" the blonde was already poking his head through the door. His attention was shifted when another door opened to reveal a familiar face. The neighbouring unit opened up to reveal a young woman, wrapped tightly in her winter coat. Her head was covered by a toque, grey-blonde hair curled effortlessly down to her shoulders. She slung the backpack over her shoulder and locked the door. Tamaki blinked. He couldn't pinpoint who she was, but goodness he _knew_ her from somewhere.

She gave a polite smile and left the two friends. She recognized Tamaki immediately and gave Kyouya a nod of acknowledgement. It was days like these that she was thankful for her busy morning schedule. Mari had to get into the lab early to set it up for the undergraduates and left his apartment two hours ago.

The blonde turned to Kyouya.

"Who was that?"

"Doesn't matter," the Shadow King shot back. He left the doorway open and shuffled into the washroom after putting the coffee machine to brew. Kyouya walked out of his bathroom to find Tamaki looking at his belongings.

"What's this? _Award for Distinction in Research and Teaching_ … Ma…ri… Takuya…" Tamaki slowly read. "Mari Takuya? Why does that sound so familiar?"

The Shadow King put the plaque face down and huffed. Mari had left it at his place after they had attended the formal a few weeks ago. He carried it home for her while she joked that she was undeserving of it and she would have no room for the piece of wood when she had to move again. Somehow, he found himself with it by the time they came home. The Ootori figured that she would come around to bring it back but Mari had probably forgotten about it.

From what he learned, Mari actually had won various accolades throughout her undergraduate years. Scholarships and awards that she qualified for from her high grades and involvement in academia were topics that she never brought up to anyone. It was a well-known fact that everyone seemed to know except for him.

"Tell me about your time here, mon ami!" Tamaki excitedly shifted the topic.

Kyouya ignored his friend and poured his coffee.

"Well, if you aren't going to talk – I'll tell you about Haruhi instead. She's already started law school but I've finally gotten admission to do my MBA here so…" Tamaki continued on with his updates that Kyouya had already known about. Tamaki liked to text him often, with the conversations being one-sided most of the time. Haruhi was far too busy to meet up with him but the Ootori got updates from Tamaki and it was more than enough.

By the time Tamaki had finished rambling about his life, Kyouya had already worked his way through his second mug of coffee.

"So, why does your neighbour look familiar?" Tamaki still couldn't let it go. It bothered him to no end. "And that plaque…"

Kyouya knew it was a matter of seconds before the annoying blonde would put the pieces together. He braced himself with another refill of his mug.

"Mari!" He exclaimed. "Oh! Mari! She was so talented in Ouran! Was that her? Was that her, Kyouya?" he shook his friend's arm. "How she's changed! That hair colour really threw me off! My goodness, she's grown to be much prettier than what I remembered. What is she up to? Is she studying at the Boston Conservatory?" Tamaki had so many questions. "We should invite her to lunch! It would be a great Ouran reunion!"

"She's busy," Kyouya muttered. He knew her schedule.  
"Dinner then!" Tamaki insisted.  
"No," the Shadow King refused.  
"How would you know? It's not like you've asked!" his friend was ecstatic. "Oh goodness, she was so sweet in Ouran – how is she now? Do you talk?"

 _We do more than talk,_ Kyouya thought to himself. Memories of the night before trickled into his mind. She sauntered into his apartment like she owned the place and smirked at him when he came out of the shower. She had her hair up in a loose bun, her pyjama shorts were dangerously short with her loose fitting crop top. She was quick to pull him closer to her, his hands suddenly finding themselves on her hips while she pulled him down by the neck. He smiled into the kiss.

"Hello? Earth to Kyouya," Tamaki flailed his arms.  
"We're neighbours," Kyouya answered. It wasn't really a lie. "Acquaintances," he clarified.

The blonde tilted his head. "Then you wouldn't actually _know_ if she's busy for lunch!"  
"It was a fair assumption," the Shadow King explained.

"But why do you have her _plaque_?!" Tamaki interrogated.

Kyouya coughed. This would be harder to explain.

"Shipment error," he was quick on his feet. "She probably wasn't around to accept the award in person and they accidentally shipped it to my unit."  
"And you haven't given it back?" the blonde narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Weird."  
"Acquaintances," Kyouya explained nonchalantly. "We're not that close."

Tamaki raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"If you say so."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Mari came back home later that evening from her lab office. She was exhausted like any other day. All she wanted to do was to eat the leftover food she had made two days ago. When she stuck the key through her door, a familiar voice greeted her from the elevator.

Bright and cheery, it was in her native tongue.

"Mari! Mari, wait!"

She was so close. All she had to do was push open the door as the key had already been turned. Mari sighed to herself. She was really hoping that Tamaki wouldn't remember her, or even better: she would avoid them all and hide in her apartment.

"It's me! Tamaki!" He ran up to her while Haruhi and Kyouya had trailed behind. Mari could already see Kyouya face palming from the end of the hallway.

Mari gave a small wave. "Hello," she greeted with a polite bow and switched over to her native tongue with ease. She usually only spoke Japanese with Kyouya. It was odd now that there were more people who could understand them.

"It's so wonderful to see you again!" It was 9 PM. Mari wondered how he managed to still have the same energy that he exerted early in the morning, almost 12 hours ago.

"We just came back from dinner! And lunch. But dinner more recently!"  
"I see," she nodded.  
"It would have been such a great reunion if you had come, Mari! Join us next time! We can go for brunch now that we are all here!"  
"I'm um, really busy," the grad student tried to make an excuse. "I have my thesis defense soon and," she sighed. "it's a bad time for anything."

The other two made their way down to the end of the hallway. Kyouya nodded to her out of acknowledgement. Mari turned to Haruhi and smiled. She still sported the short hair. It must have been easier to maintain than the long mane that Mari had grown.

Haruhi reciprocated the gesture. "It's nice to see you again, Mari." They shook hands.

"Well, I'm going to retire for the night," Mari politely excused herself when she reached for the door handle.  
"Wait, Mari! Kyouya still has your plaque!"

Mari blinked. _"_ What plaque?"  
Kyouya coughed. "Your award for distinction in research and in teaching."

"Oh," she sheepishly responded. She forgot about that. Mari wondered how Kyouya explained that to Tamaki without raising any suspicion about the two. "I can get that any time when you aren't busy," Mari tilted her head towards his guests.

Tamaki laughed. "No, Kyouya isn't busy at all! Come on, Mari. We can all catch up. It'll be a great reunion!"  
"It would be wonderful to hear about you," Haruhi warmly invited.

"This is _my_ apartment," the Shadow King reminded all of them.  
"I shouldn't intrude," Mari was on Kyouya's side on this one. Any other given day, Mari had the permission to intrude into his apartment because he had gotten used to her. He would leave the door unlocked for her. That, and the fact that he actually _liked_ having her over. But this? This was unchartered territory that neither of them wanted to venture into.

"Come on," Tamaki begged.

Mari turned to Kyouya. _It's your call_ , she told him through her eyes.  
 _No_ , he wanted to scream. _Hard no. I want them out of my hair immediately._

But what came out was a distressed sigh. "Fine."  
The blonde cheered in delight. "Come on, Mari! Come in!"  
"I'll be there in a bit," Mari pursed her lips, trying to mask her reluctance. "I'll put away my things before coming around, yeah?"

The couple nodded. Kyouya stuck the key into his door and glanced at Mari.

It was an unspoken rule. No one needed to know about them. It was none of anyone's business what they were, or what they defined each other as. They were friends at best. Acquaintances at the worst. She nodded to him in understanding before stepping into her own unit.

* * *

Mari knocked on the door.

Gosh, it was weird to be knocking. She usually walked into his apartment without a word. Security was good in the building to the point where neither of them really locked the door if they knew either of them were coming around.

Kyouya was the one to greet her at the door with an exhausted expression. Mari smiled up at him in sympathy. Tamaki was a lot to deal with, especially for an entire day. She wondered how he kept up for this long.

Mari held up a six pack. It was only polite to bring over something if she was a visitor, right? Kyouya huffed. He hated this commoner craft beer stuff. Kyouya had cracked open a bottle of wine before she had come around.

"I brought beer," Mari announced.

Haruhi turned around with excitement. "Oh, American beer!" Tamaki perked up.  
"Commoner beer! Ah yes! Let us have some!" He ditched his wine glass immediately.

Kyouya could only sigh. What was with Tamaki's fascination with commoner culture even after all these years? He had a chardonnay that been sitting around for so long and this six pack of carbonated _bread_ had won over. Mari smirked at him in victory.

Mari made her way over to the couch and let the guests pry open the bottles themselves.

"Tell us about your life!" Tamaki excitedly started off. "Are you studying at the conservatory?"  
Mari shook her head. "No, Harvard."

"Harvard has a music school?" Tamaki dropped his jaw.  
"Well," Mari smiled to herself. Of course, he would only remember her as a musician. "Yes. But I'm not here for music," Mari patiently explained. "I did my undergraduate degree in chemistry. Now I'm finishing up my Master's in pharmacology." Mari thought about what it would be like going back to Japan to have to explain the same story over and over again.

Haruhi nodded in understanding. "That's very exciting, Mari. It's nice that you're doing well for yourself. Are you going back to Japan?"  
Mari shook her head. "I'm moving in a few months to England."

"England?" Tamaki gasped. "For what?"  
"Doctoral degree," Mari smiled.  
"Amazing," Haruhi looked at her in awe. "That's brilliant. You're going to do wonderfully."  
"I hope so," the graduate student could only sigh.

"Kyouya! Did you know all of this?" Tamaki flailed his arms at his best friend.  
Kyouya shrugged. "No." _That was a lie._ "Congratulations, Mari."  
"Thanks," she responded in the same clipped manner.

Mari turned the conversation over to Tamaki. Haruhi was doing law school here. Tamaki would be beginning his MBA program soon. They lived together and had been together for the past few years. Mari could only nod and smile. _They're very sweet together_ , she thought to herself. Tamaki was excited for the prospect of being beside his best friend again. Mari wanted to laugh at how Kyouya's eyes widened with fear for a split second.

"Have you gone back to visit?" Haruhi asked Mari.  
"No," she shook her head. "I have no business to be going back to Japan."  
"Ever?"  
"Possibly, yes," Mari shrugged.

"Don't you ever miss home?" Tamaki frowned. "I know I would."  
"Home is wherever," Mari smiled. "I've been quite comfortable here for the past few years."  
"Then why move?" Haruhi was curious. "You could do a doctorate here as well."

"3 degrees from Harvard? Geez, that's overboard," Mari joked. "I want to gain greater perspective. Live elsewhere. Learn different things. A change would be good. Growing too comfortable might stifle my growth."  
Tamaki listened with such intent. "That's a marvellous way of approaching the future."

"Well, who knows what the future brings," Mari smiled. "Hopefully something good."  
"Of course!" Tamaki agreed. "You deserve nothing but the best!"

"You two _really_ haven't spoken to each other all this time?" Haruhi was surprised to observe the lack of interaction between Mari and Kyouya. They were neighbours! They had to have been friends at the very least.  
"Our paths don't really cross," Mari explained. "And we weren't really the best of friends in Ouran, either."  
"Well, you can bury the hatchet!" Tamaki excitedly suggested.

Mari gave Kyouya a look. She twisted her lips to something almost of a smirk, caught only by Haruhi and Kyouya himself.

"Seems like the hatchet has already been buried," Haruhi was blunt about it and called it out like she saw it.  
"Mutual understanding," Kyouya shrugged. "We don't get in each other's ways."  
"Yeah," Mari agreed.

Haruhi shook her head, not believing a single word. Tamaki on the other hand, was absolutely clueless to it all. It was a wonderful Ouran reunion for all he knew.

* * *

They used to spend weekends together. Friday nights were their nights to drink wine and beer respectively. Saturday mornings were made for the Shadow King to sleep in, and oftentimes he found himself unconsciously wounding his arms around her waist to keep her from escaping his grasp.

Mari grew into it. She used to squirm out of his grip, her arm immediately catching his hand. Until one morning when she was too exhausted to pry him off of her. Somehow, Mari sunk into his warmth. The feeling of comfort. She almost wanted to stay in this position for the rest of the day without any worries that clouded her mind.

But as always, Mari would wake up before he did. She would slither out of his arms like she had done far too many times before, gather the remnants of her clothes that were strewn off the floor, and then clean up the kitchen because god knew that Kyouya would never bother to. He had a cleaning service set up conveniently during the times that he sat in class.

Mari tiptoed out of his room, closing the door as quietly as she could. She never kept a toothbrush at his place. She wouldn't take the option anyway, she would have preferred to have her DNA and every single strand of hair banished from the rest of his flat. Mari placed the empty wine glasses in his dishwasher and placed the glass bottles of beer away in the recycling. Mari rubbed her eyes and sighed to herself before opening the door.

"There is no way he's awake yet, Tamaki."  
"That is why _we_ have to go wake him up! It's the weekend. It is the perfect time for brunch."

She shut the door and locked it immediately. A moment of panic rushed through her veins before she took a deep breath. She was trapped. Mari thrusted open Kyouya's bedroom door without a second thought.

"Your friends are here," Mari shook him awake.  
The Shadow King grumbled. "Leave them outside." He could not have cared less about who was outside his door.

"No, _I_ can't leave," the young woman seethed. "I'm trapped here. I have to leave."  
"Is that _really_ the worst thing, Mari?" the Shadow King still had his eyes closed.  
"I swear to god, if this is the same Tamaki as I rememb—"

Mari quieted at the sound of the knocking against the apartment door. The knocking became more persistent as the minutes passed.

Kyouya groaned. "I hate him."  
"Just get up and tell them to come back later," Mari begged.  
"He won't come back later if he gets in," the Shadow King sighed. "Just leave them."

The woman growled. "Deal with it. I have a meeting in 2 hours."  
"It's the weekend," Kyouya made a noise of disbelief. "What meeting could you possibly have?"  
"I'm doing a practice run of my exit seminar with my labmates. Just –" Mari groaned. "I don't even have my phone on me to cancel."

The Shadow King reluctantly pulled himself up against the head board of his bed. He rubbed his eyes and took a look at his phone. 20 missed texts from Tamaki and 3 missed calls.

 _Good morning, best friend!  
Look at the sunshine! Let's go out for brunch!_

Kyouya scrolled down a little further.

 _How does 11 AM sound?  
Ok?  
No?  
Too late, we're coming!_

3 missed calls from Tamaki followed.

"He wants brunch," Kyouya muttered.

"I don't _care_ what he wants but you better deal with it," Mari crossed her arms. She wore a grey t-shirt that just so happened to showcase enough of her assets that Kyouya had to avert his gaze. She pulled her cardigan closer against her body, barely enough to cover her thighs. Her bare legs felt cold against the frame of his bed.

"What do you want me to do?" he ran a hand through his raven hair. They could hear Tamaki call Kyouya's name through the door now.  
"Let me get back to my apartment, of course!" the woman whispered.

Kyouya cocked his head to the side and looked up at the Mari who stood furious at the edge of his bed. He could imagine his hands reaching beneath her soft cotton t-shirt, pulling her back into bed. He would take apart that messy bun to let the strands fall against her bare shoulders.

"For fuck's sake, don't just sit there like an idiot—" Mari threw her hands up.  
Kyouya smirked. "What will I get in return?"  
"Whatever the fuck you want, just let me go back home and get ready for my meeting!" Mari furrowed her brows.

The Ootori picked up his phone and made a call to the security office in the building and filed a noise complaint. Within 20 minutes, Mari could hear Tamaki wailing outside the door with Haruhi profusely apologizing to the security guard. Mari breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "I have to go."  
"Not so fast." He caught her arm and pulled her back to where she belonged. "You owe me a favour, Mari."

Mari sighed and shook her head. He closed the gap between them before she could get up. Her lips curved upwards and his touch.

"I have to go," she whispered against his jaw.  
"Persephone has to stay for half the year," he reminded.  
"I am not a character in a myth," Mari lowly replied.  
"No," Kyouya agreed. "You are a goddess."

Mari sighed and shook her head. She let her cardigan fall over her shoulders, her nails gently dug into the side of his jaw. _Goodness, she was breathtaking,_ he thought to himself. His fingers gently took apart the loose bun as she bridged the gap again.

"You really are a host," Mari murmured. "And I won't fall for it." She bit his lip, reminding him that she was still someone not to be reckoned with. His hands found themselves elsewhere on her body, tugging at the edges of her pyjama shorts. Her legs straddled over him comfortably as they fell into their old habits.

* * *

Tamaki left another string of voice messages. All of which, Kyouya deleted except the last one.

 _I cannot believe you called security on us! I thought we were friends!_ He could hear shuffling on the phone. Haruhi grumbled and ended the call but not before letting Kyouya know their dinner plans.

 _Reservations are made for 7 PM. I believe you both owe each other an apology of some sort. I made a reservation for 4. Bring Mari, I think Tamaki would really like that._

Kyouya heard the neighbouring unit door open late afternoon. He let her settle down for a few minutes before texting.

 _Tamaki wants dinner with us._

Mari's phone buzzed on the other side. She was in the midst of brewing a cup of warm tea before settling back down to tweak her presentation. Her practice run had gone alright, though there were certainly improvements to be made. She looked at her phone and rolled her eyes.

 _I'm busy._

Kyouya waited patiently for his phone to vibrate. Her message was short and blunt. It was obvious she didn't want to go. Quite frankly, neither did he. He texted Haruhi that Mari was busy and so was he.

 _Tamaki insists that he will convince Mari._ _He wants to come over._

Kyouya sighed. There was no stopping Tamaki, especially when he was already set on the idea. The Ootori reluctantly made his way over to his neighbour and knocked on the door.

Her hair was in a much neater bun than from the morning. Mari tilted her head in surprise and raised an eyebrow. They were not really the type for pleasantries. Kyouya held his phone up and showed her the message from Haruhi.

"He's really something, isn't he?" Mari sighed. Kyouya's phone buzzed with another message from Haruhi.

 _We're coming now._

"God, he's really persistent," the woman shook her head and left the door open for Kyouya to come in. "Tea?" Mari offered politely.  
"Sure," Kyouya shrugged. Mari poured the tea into each mug.

"What is with Tamaki anyway? You guys have hung out a lot lately. Isn't he tired of you?" She settled on a bar stool and let the warmth of the cup travel from her fingertips to the rest of her body.  
"He loves his bonding," Kyouya grumbled. "I'm tired too. But I would like to have another body of sanity around. I don't know how Haruhi does it."

Mari sighed. "She's a saint."

"Are you coming then?" Kyouya sipped the imported sencha – it reminded him of home. Mari may have assimilated into commoner culture but she certainly still had refined taste.  
"Well, if he's going to break down my door like he was going to with yours this morning, I will agree for the sake of my safety…"

The Ootori chuckled.

"He's a lot," the Shadow King murmured. "I apologize on his behalf."

"You're dealing with him too," Mari pointed out. "I get it though – he's your best friend. How could he not want to hang out with you?"  
Kyouya sighed. "I should get back."  
"Yeah," Mari laughed. "See you in a bit. "

He hated that he couldn't stop staring. She put on a darker shade of lipstick and tucked her sweater into a pencil skirt and adorned her legs with sheer tights. Mari had always looked refined, but even more so than usual – of course, she always knew to dress appropriately. She was raised by the upper class after all.

She ate quietly and answered Tamaki's questions. All things that Kyouya had known about of course. He ate quietly as he watched his friends learn more about Mari. First about her years abroad, and then her research – explained to him in layman terms, to her career, her family back in Japan and then…

"It sounds like you have been so lonely," Tamaki commented.

Mari cut through her filet mignon with ease, unflinching at the observation.

"I have been doing well," she responded with a curt smile.

The Suoh frowned. "Well, of course. But you haven't gone home in so long – don't you miss your homeland?"

The woman chuckled. "I used to miss our culture. The politeness. The hierarchy of respect. But then, you just… somehow grow into this carefree world. It's been a good change. I've been very content."

"Is content all you're looking for, mon ami?" Tamaki gasped. "Don't you want the experience of true happiness?" Of course, the French man had to flail his arms around dramatically.  
"I'm happy," Mari reassured. "I like the work that I do."  
"There is more to life than just work," Haruhi pointed out.

Mari and Kyouya shared a look. It was undeniable that the two argued otherwise, being the workaholics that they were. They defined themselves as their occupation: future CEO and scientist. They were willing to dedicate their whole lives to their passion. Nothing and no one would compare to the feeling they had while they did what they loved most.

Haruhi watched the two lock eyes. Kyouya smirked at her. She averted her gaze and looked back down to her plate. Her slender fingers delicately maneuvered her cutlery to pick up one strand of green beans before she popped it into her mouth. She made the act of eating seem so gracious, even Haruhi could not help but to stare at how her sophisticated nature.

"That may be true," Mari answered Haruhi softly. "But for now, I am fulfilled and I am happy. I see no reason to change my path of interest."  
"But what about _love_?" Tamaki wailed. "You have to have experienced love to experience happiness!"  
"Or loss," Mari looked at the other end of the spectrum. She swirled the wine in her glass mindlessly. "Loss too, can change your perspective."

The table went silent. The French man settled back into his seat. Mari sipped her wine quietly. She glazed over her last comment without any remorse as she spoke the truth. Kyouya had to agree and tilted his glass towards her. Like night and day, the people who shifted into the shadows united with a clink of their wine glasses while those on the other side of the table stared.

"I'm sorry," Tamaki cleared his throat.  
"Nothing to be sorry about," she smiled at him and raised her glass. The Suoh reciprocated the gesture. "To… happiness," Mari softly said. The rest of the table joined in.  
"Who hurt you?" the Suoh softly prodded. "You poor thing."

Mari shook her head. "No one," she smiled. "No one can hurt me," Mari reassured softly. "Loss is not always defined by being hurt. Emptiness, mostly."  
"Then who left you empty?" Haruhi blinked. She never expected it from Mari. She was always so sweet. But then again, Haruhi never really knew her all that well to begin with.

The woman in question pursed her lips. "Does it matter who left? They are no longer part of my life. Dwelling on the void only invites more unhappiness. It's unproductive, don't you think?"

Mari evaded the question with ease, putting to rest the topic that seemed to place a blanket of sadness over the table. She easily diverted the question to happier things. Tamaki was more than excited to talk about Haruhi. Their relationship. Their plans for the future. He was so incredibly in love and he only wanted everyone around him to experience the same feeling he did.

Mari listened intently, smiling at the couple in front of her.

"You two have a lot of chemistry," Haruhi pointed out as they waited for dessert.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow at his friend. Mari reciprocated the same gesture. They said nothing to the comment.

"Your silence says more than you think," the lawyer-to-be huffed.  
"I hated him in Ouran," Mari reminded. "I truly hated his guts."  
"Who didn't…" Haruhi grumbled until she saw Kyouya glare at her. Even to this day, it sent shivers down her spine. "To… some degree," she tried to backtrack.

"What did he ever do to you, sweet Mari?" Tamaki shot his friend a glare. "What has the Shadow King done?"  
Mari laughed. "He was just a terribly infuriating lab partner. A snob. Privileged beyond belief and yet had the audacity to –" she stopped herself. "We were cut from the same cloth," Mari remembered. She shouldn't have been so hard on him. "But we were just so different."

Haruhi nodded. "I can certainly see that. You hung around other scholarship students, didn't you?"  
Mari nodded.  
"I am sure you and Kyouya must have gotten closer after going to Harvard together." Haruhi was trying to hint at something much more than what seemed to be just a surface-level relationship.

"We didn't run in the same circl—" Mari tried to explain.  
"—We're just acquaintances." Kyouya cut her off.

The lawyer pursed her lips and did not engage further. The two were stubborn in their ways and Tamaki of course, was still horrendously oblivious to it all.

* * *

Kyouya of course, was the one to drive her home. They spent the ride in silence as Mari looked out the window. She would only be around for a couple more months – weeks, really. She would miss Boston. Mari had grown up here for a good portion of her adult years, after all. And now she was packing up her bags and starting over again, only in a matter of a few months. She was excited, but it was all so bittersweet to her.

The Ootori gripped the wheel and exhaled to himself. Something about that dinner made him feel unsettled. Of course, their knee-jerk reaction would be to say that they were acquaintances. Even being friends would have been stretching it.

But was it so hard to admit that they were at least friends? Or just a two people that had a quick fuck every once in a while?

Who was he kidding, it was far more than just _once in a while_. And he _knew_ her. More than she ever let on during that dinner. He knew the emptiness that she had felt. The cause of it all. He knew that she was so much more than just that sweet exterior.

They arrived back at their building and the two exited the car into the cold.

"Is it so hard to say that we're friends?"  
Mari gave him an amused look. "You said we were acquaintances," she reminded.  
"Yeah but," the Ootori huffed. "You were not very enthused about _us_ in the morning."

"Did you want your friends to know?" Mari raised an eyebrow at him.

Kyouya sighed. "No." He did not want questions from Tamaki. He certainly did not want Haruhi's smug face telling him that she had known all along. It would take an idiot to not realize that Haruhi already had an inkling of their relationship.

Mari smiled in victory and began walking into the lobby of their apartment building. She held the elevator for him and coolly leaned against the railing at the back.

"We're friends," Mari agreed. "I'll give you that. But you and I both know I'm not a girl you would bring home."

The elevator dinged.

The Ootori let her walk past him without even a glance. He wanted to protest Mari's last comment but it was far too late when she wished him a good night and stepped into her unit.

 _Not a girl you would bring home._

She was not just a girl. She was a woman who was accomplished. Intelligent. Ambitious. Goodness, he respected her in so many aspects.

He wondered if she knew that.

* * *

He watched as she packed up her belongings. She was officially a Master's graduate but of course, Mari had no interest in staying for a petty graduation ceremony. She was off to Oxford today.

Two large suitcases. Three boxes of textbooks. Everything else was Kanda's, she said. Mari seemed to have no particular attachment to anyone or anything. Not even him.

Not that he expected her to.

"Are you going to let this apartment collect dust?" Kyouya asked as she rolled her suitcases towards the door.

Mari shrugged. "The apartment is under Kanda's name. He can choose to rent it out but quite frankly, I think he will sell it. Unless he'll keep it for his son…" She rolled her eyes. "But that will probably be over a decade from now."

Her flight was 8 hours from now. Kyouya offered a ride to the airport and to that she only chuckled.

"You have better things to do than that," Mari brushed off. "This isn't anything I haven't done before."  
"Have you found a place in Oxford?"

Mari nodded. "Yeah, home for the next few years. It's a one bedroom flat. Small but cozy. Close to campus. It'll be good, I think." Silence filled the room as Mari took one last look around the place. "It was good while it lasted. 6 years here in Boston."

"Another 3 in the UK," the Shadow King murmured. "What's next?"  
Mari smiled. "Not sure. I'll see where life takes me."

She would never be tied down. He knew that. The way she broke free of all expectations, even if there weren't any to begin with. Mari hated to be confined. It only drew him into her. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she would never settle and he felt like he could never catch up. Even if he was the son of one of the most powerful families in Japan. She didn't bat an eye to that.

"Will you be back?" he asked while she loaded up her textbooks in the trunk of the taxi. A UK address was plastered at the very top of the cardboard box. She refused to sell these books for some reason – calling them all sentimental to some degree. Much of the books were already dog-eared and highlighted to her heart's content. He took another box and loaded it into the trunk.  
"To Boston?" Mari hummed. "If the opportunity presents itself. Maybe if a post-doc position opens up here. Maybe MIT."

"Academia?" the Ootori raised an eyebrow.  
"It's what I'm good at," the woman shrugged. "Play to your strengths, right?"

"What about Japan?"  
"You know how I feel about Japan," Mari softly said. The two finished loading the back of the taxi.  
"Right," he nodded.

"Will I see you again?" It sounded so dumb when he said it out loud.  
She smiled. "Yeah. We run in the same circles, Kyouya. Our families do business together."  
Kyouya scoffed. "As if you would ever show up to those publicity events."  
Mari laughed out loud. "You know me too well. Maybe you will see me. Maybe you won't. I don't think it matters to you."

 _I don't think it matters to you._

She waved to him and nodded in acknowledgement. A slight head bow, just as they were taught as children despite adapting to Western styles of etiquette. It was a mutual form of high respect. Mari stepped into the taxi and all he could do was wave.

It did matter to him. A feeling of emptiness filled the hollows of his chest. All he could do was sigh. The feeling would pass. He would forget.

Or so he hoped.

* * *

Yuki Takuya was quite the social media influence. Now over 3 million followers across Asia and growing. She was, what she considered, a self-made businesswoman with sponsorships without having even gone to business school. As such, one photo had caught the eyes of millions. A sweet moment caught by the influencer between aunt and nephew.

 _There is absolute love in her eyes. Good to have you home, sis._

Mari had her nephew on her legs. Her eyes crinkled in absolute delight as the child looked up to her in curiosity. Who was this woman? He had never seen her before. But she showered him with love and care. With toys. With patience and time. He played with her for the first time and she stayed to play with him too. He got attention from her for such a prolonged period of time, someone other than his usual nanny.

He latched onto his aunt. They became inseparable after an afternoon together. Mari quite liked her nephew. He was very well natured. Quiet and cautious. It reminded her of herself as a child.

Kanda laughed at the sight. His son and his little sister. He saw his son every night after coming home from work but he hadn't seen his sister in years. Yuki was of course, attached to her phone. His wife was glad to have someone take her son off her hands, even if it was only a few hours after the nanny had gone home.

"What a family reunion," Kanda mused.

"Photo time!" Yuki announced. "Mari, the photo I posted of you already has over 100K likes in 20 minutes."

Mari blinked. "What?"

"Don't worry! I'm a great photographer – comes with the job. You looked wonderful in it. And of course, Taika looks adorable as usual."

Mari put on a fake smile for the camera with her siblings. She felt obligated to see her family after being abroad for 7 years. Now that Taika was old enough to remember her and Kanda had taken over the company fully – things had settled down. It was harder to relate to them as the years had gone by, but at the end of the day – Mari found her siblings to be pleasant. Everyone stayed outside of each other's ways – letting each other live their respective lives.

No one asked Mari what she did in the UK. All they knew was that she was doing her doctorate. She was now labelled as the brains of the family. Yuki's job was unconventional but she had a steady paycheque. She did what she was good at. Kanda was doing everything expected of him: becoming CEO, a loving husband, a great dad, fulfilling the large shoes left for him.

There was no scandal between the siblings fighting for their respective share of the fortune. No competition. Everyone was happy and had their own fulfilling lives. A rare sight. The media pounced for any scrap they could find, watching Yuki's social media closely. Yuki hardly shared anything about her family.

The photo of Mari sparked interest. So much so that Kyouya even got an alert on his phone the next day.

 _Who is this mystery sibling of Yuki Takuya?_

 _Secret Takuya Sibling Unveiled!_

 _Heir of the family, the beauty of the family… where's the missing piece?_

Kyouya blinked at the sight of these articles.

 _Mari Takuya – the forgotten sibling of the Takuya family. A former internationally-acclaimed pianist made a surprise appearance on social influencer Yuki Takuya's photos with their nephew. A Harvard graduate of chemistry and pharmaceutical sciences, the accomplished academic is now pursuing her doctorate in Oxford._

Mari never told him she was in the country. A part of him couldn't help but to feel a pang of disappointment.

He clicked other articles. Some linked to her Master's thesis as it were investigative journalism – all it really took was a search in the Harvard database. He rolled his eyes. The media could hardly find anything on Mari – likely because she refused to have any footprint on the internet. Of course, she was cautious and far too smart to slip up like that.

Kyouya texted her.

 _You're in Japan, I see._

He attached an article he found amusing. She responded quickly. He wondered what she was up to.

 _Wow, who knew I was such a shame to be kept hidden for over two decades until I became an accomplished academic!_

He chuckled. They hadn't spoken in nearly a year. He wondered how she was doing. It seemed right to catch up. His fingers had a mind of their own when he typed the next message.

 _Dinner?_

Mari coolly responded within minutes.

 _Give me a time and place. See you whenever._

He smiled dumbly at his phone. It was good to have her back. He looked at the photo that Yuki posted.

She looked happy. And goodness, he hadn't seen her in a year but she was gorgeous. It was a great photo – one that piqued the entire country's interest. She was so elusive – it only brought on more attention. All of which she deserved.

He couldn't explain it. He was proud to know her. The world only caught on when they were far too late in discovering who she was.

Mari arrived at the restaurant right on time. Of course, the Ootori was already there. If you were on-time, you were late – something that he would probably abide to, Mari thought.

She had her hair pinned up. Mari looked effortlessly sophisticated with her grey handbag that contrasted from her white dress. She took a seat in front of him with ease while taking note of the surroundings.

A live string quartet played in the background. The wait staff was at their beck and call. They had a private room to themselves.

"Pretentious," she commented at the choice of restaurant. "Wouldn't have expected anything else." The first thing she said to him was far from a greeting. He smirked.  
"You've been well," Mari noted. "You must be finished at Harvard by now."

He nodded. "And your doctorate is going well?"  
"Well…" Mari repeated. Doctorates were never really going _well_ in the thick of it all. "It has not been easy but… it is what it is."

She took a sip of her water. "Are you back to work at your company?"

He nodded. "What are you doing here?"

"You asked me to dinner," she gave a snarky response.  
"And you hate Japan," Kyouya rolled his eyes.

Mari shrugged. "I don't hate where I had lived for my entire childhood. Actually, my siblings were quite tolerable these past few days. Yuki has grown out of her annoying phase. She seems busier than I am– meetings with brands and managing her entire empire of followers. Kanda of course, is busy with the company."

"You would not visit Japan for your siblings," the Ootori pointed out.  
"I would visit Japan for my nephew," Mari smiled at the thought of the little boy. Goodness, he was so sweet and so pure. All he wanted to do was to play with trains and dinosaurs. Mari planned on taking him to the natural history museum the next day.

Kyouya frowned. It was getting annoying to try to gauge the answer he wanted out of her. Mari chuckled at his irritancy.

"My passport expires soon," Mari explained. "I've been abroad so long – there would be no way I could travel without a working passport. Though I guess I could have gone to the embassy but," the woman shrugged. "This visit was long overdue, after all."

"Ah, yes," Kyouya nodded. It made sense.

"Who knows, maybe one day I won't be a Japanese citizen," Mari toyed with the idea of settling elsewhere.  
The Ootori shrugged. "I can see that. Anywhere but here."  
"Yeah," Mari nodded. "Though it is nice to be able to speak your native tongue."

The two caught up over the past year. Small talk. Nothing exciting. Quite frankly, they were both very successful in their respective fields. They didn't expect anything less of each other, either. He walked her to the entrance of the restaurant at the end of the night. They caught up with each other like they were old friends. It was a familiar feeling.

Mari called for a cab.

"Where are you staying?" Kyouya casually asked.  
"A hotel," Mari answered. "I'm only here to sort out my passport. I leave in 3 days."  
"I see," he perched up his glasses. "It was good to see you."

"Mmhm," Mari agreed, crossing her arms. The cool evening breeze was comfortable as they stood outside. "What are you up to?" she looked him in the eye.  
"Hm?" he dumbly responded. Kyouya couldn't help but to stare. She was still so pretty, just as he remembered her. It was a stupid thought that crossed his mind. Of course she was beautiful. She wouldn't step out in public if she was not put together, a simple rule of the upper class.

"What are your plans for the rest of the night?" she tried again.  
"Uh," he cleared his throat. "Probably reviewing… some documents," Kyouya grumbled.  
She tilted her head and smirked. "I could think of a better use of your time."  
He blinked. His mouth gaped open at the realization of what she was insinuating. Or… was she? Maybe he was looking for an excuse… he missed her in more ways than one.

She couldn't help but to laugh at his reaction. "Up to you how you want to spend your night," Mari shrugged. The taxi pulled up to the curb and Mari reached for the door.  
"Wait," Kyouya grabbed the door handle for her. Mari raised an eyebrow. The Shadow King coolly sent the driver away.  
"I'll send you home," Kyouya huffed when he saw her smirk.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Mari woke up bright and early. She was never able to shake off the jet lag. It didn't matter, anyway – she was leaving soon.

"Why are you always up so early?" he grumbled. Mari had no mercy in opening up the blinds to the early sunshine. She needed natural sunlight to do her makeup anyway. Besides, it was already 7. Mari figured that the Ootori should have to get home to change and to get ready for work some time soon.

"I am taking Taika to the museum today," Mari answered as she put on moisturizer on her face.

"It's only 7 AM," the Shadow King growled. He could only squint at the silhouette that faced the window.

"I need breakfast," Mari shrugged. She craved fresh fruit in the morning. "And you have to go to work," she reminded.

Right. The Ootori rubbed his eyes awake. He had work. Of course he did. At some point during the night, he completely forgot that it was a weekday. A Tuesday, in fact. She was leaving on Friday. She always seemed to have a better grip on reality than he did and it bothered him.

She was nonchalant about it all. Like last night had never happened. Of course, he couldn't pinpoint why it bothered him so much. She was acting like she should have.

"I can grab breakfast with you," he offered.  
"You don't eat breakfast," Mari chuckled. "All you need is a cup of black coffee."

She knew him too well. Far too well, actually. She picked up on all the things that he never thought she would and still, she was such a mystery to him. He felt like a ghost to her – someone she easily saw through, invisible, and only present on the occasion that he needed to be.

Kyouya sighed.

"Go shower," Mari ushered. "You should get ready for the day. I'm sure you have meetings scheduled… do whatever business people do."

He did as told. Her hotel bathroom was of course, pristine. She still used the same toiletries as she always had. He recognized the same body wash that Mari always smelled like. He reached over for it.

 _This is so silly._ He thought to himself. He stood in the middle of her shower, sniffing this woman's body wash for _what reason_? This was obsessive. This was unhealthy. He put it back and carried on with his routine.

The Ootori stepped out of the steaming bathroom with a towel around his waist. Mari raised an eyebrow at him before continuing to draw on her eyeliner. She made no comment as she put away her makeup.

His physique had always been lean. She had seen it all before, enough that she was no longer fazed by it. But he, on the other hand, found it irksome that she was able to coolly ignore him the way that she did.

"What is this?" he blurted.

Mari turned around from her suitcase. She was going to grab her laptop and catch up on some emails during breakfast. "You're going to have to give me more context than that."

"This…" Kyouya sighed. "I don't know what this is."

"Are you asking me to define what we have?" the woman almost wanted to chuckle. Of _all_ people, she didn't expect the Ootori to want to _define_ what they had. They were non-committal workaholics. They were the sole definition of what was meant to be emotionally unavailable.

"Yes!" the Ootori grumbled. "I…"

He was confused. She made him feel things that he never needed to feel. The comfort of being around her. The absolute allure that she had to draw him in and then to have to pretend nothing happened. It was a rollercoaster. Just when he thought he could live without her, when he thought he never missed her in the first place – she came to remind him that she existed.

And she was an absolute gorgeous woman who was far too good for anyone to hold down.

But he… he was an Ootori, for fuck's sake. He was _better_ than anyone he could think of. Anyone that was deserving of her – it would be him, would it not? It made sense. He was dwindled down to some stuttering idiot who stood in the middle of her hotel room, aghast.

Mari only crossed her arms and shrugged.

"Does it really have to be defined? We're good friends," Mari explained. "We are far too busy to be in a relationship with anyone, including each other. I didn't think this needed an explanation."

The Ootori sighed and shook his head. _Of course_. She explained it to him like he was a 5 year old, the age of her nephew.

"If you want this to stop, we can," she offered.

"That's all I am to you? A quick fuck?" the Ootori growled.

"You're still a good friend," Mari tried again. "I thought you felt the same. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise."

She was right. He couldn't deny that she was right, always right. It bothered him. Why was he so stupid? He never professed his love for her. He _didn't_ love her. No, he thought to himself. He never loved anyone. It was a foolish thing to do.

"But realistically, Kyouya," her voice softer now. She could tell he took a hit just by the way he pursed his lips. The way he narrowed his eyes. He was angry, but not at her. He was angry at himself for slipping up. For being human.

"I live in the UK. You're in Japan. You're destined for some… heiress, someone that our society deems worthy of. And I… will always be forgotten," Mari accepted her fate. She didn't mind being the forgotten sibling. All the freedom that came with it was something she refused to trade.

"My future is undefined. But yours is," Mari had nothing but respect for the Ootori. "You are destined for such great things. You have everything set out for you. A job. A whole company to yourself. Someday, a wife that will be handpicked just up to your standards. But I… don't know where I will end up and I don't plan on settling anywhere for long. I'm not made for a relationship – with anyone," she added.

He knew all of this. He _knew_ she was someone not emotionally available. Why did he ever think he was anyone different to her?

"Maybe we shouldn't see each other," Mari murmured. He could hear the sadness in her voice. She hated to lose a friendship that had lasted so long over the years. Her slim fingers grabbed her laptop and her room key. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun. Her high neck blouse was tucked in neatly into her grey pencil skirt.

"The door locks on its own. Goodbye, Kyouya."

* * *

Mari was right.

The Ootori couldn't help but to think of her when he was announced as the sole heir of the Ootori Corporation. She always saw his potential. But now that he was the CEO of a whole company, the next thing off the checklist was to get married. One could not be the CEO without having an heir to take over of course.

Kyouya sat across from the girl that he was forced to go on an omiai with.

Mari slipped into his thoughts on the occasion. Not so often any more after two years. He wished her the best. Like how she would have done the same for him. She was always right in that they were good friends.

All he needed was space.

But today, he couldn't help but to compare this woman to her. It was his first omiai that his mother had been nagging him to go on. Even Fuyumi was recruited to try to convince the youngest son to consider this woman.

The woman's hair was dyed brown, her nails manicured with jewels. She was pretty, but not quite his type.

She was well-educated, of course. Both Ouran graduates, although she was a few years younger. Had a degree in business administration from overseas. Her brother was the heir to a pharmaceutical company, but she was the head director of a subdivision – soon to be the daughter company of her brother's. Prospects for business were extremely high.

They spoke about their respective experiences abroad. His at Harvard, hers at Berkley. Surface-level conversation about their families – nothing that they didn't know already. They moved onto talking about their business. Sure, they could keep up conversation. She was quite lovely, very excitable.

"We're pushing for a new product," the candidate continued. She obviously did most of the talking. Kyouya had tuned her out by then. His mind was more focused on the pile of paperwork he had to get through after this stupid omiai.

"It's based on a recent patent…"

Goodness, it has already been 40 minutes. Kyouya wondered what the best method of rejection would be. Omiais were outdated methods of dating. There must be some sort of protocol. He would look it up. He also made a note to tell his secretary to block any more calls from his family members, unless it was his father or his brothers.

"From Harvard, your alma mater actually…"

The Ootori tried his best not to look down at his watch. It was rude. How much longer did this meeting have to go on?

"It was such a coincidence that one of the patent owners happened to be an Ouran alumnus and that she was in Japan now. Dr. Takuya took up a post-doc position at Toudai…"

Kyouya blinked. He was now hearing her name. Goodness, he really should have gone for that extra cup of coffee in the afternoon.

"I went to meet her personally about it with some of our R&D team. She really is a brilliant researcher. She explained it in such a manner that even _I_ could understand it! A miracle since I was so terrible at the sciences as a child…"

The Ootori took a moment to process what the woman had said.

"Mari Takuya?" he blinked.

"Hm?" His date had already gone through that topic minutes ago. The Ootori looked more intrigued than he ever did over the past 45 minutes.

"Sorry, I thought you mentioned someone that I knew."

"You know Dr. Takuya?" her eyes widened. "She's an Ouran alumnus, so perhaps that name would ring a bell."

"She's back?" the Ootori couldn't believe it. There were only so many Takuyas that graduated Ouran. If she was a woman, it was definitely her. Of all places, Mari came back to the place that she seemed to avoid the most.

"Yes…?" the woman was obviously confused by the sudden interest in this stranger.

"What is she doing here?" he scoffed, still in disbelief.

"Like I mentioned," His date was obviously unimpressed by how he hadn't been paying attention to her. "She just started her post-doc at Toudai. I don't know her all that well..."

 _Well, of course not,_ Kyouya thought to himself.

Their date ended with the woman clearly unimpressed by the Ootori's lack of interest in her. And of course, Kyouya left coolly without a second thought. He left the upscale café with a pile of documents in tow in his briefcase and tried to think nothing of it.

For years, he avoided searching her up.

Of course, he knew that Mari Takuya had no issues getting published in papers. She would do well for herself without him having to confirm that. He needed his space and she gave it to him. She did the right thing.

But he lingered at the thought of her again.

Most days, he was too busy with work to do anything else besides sleep or work out to relieve some of the stress. He thought of her as a good friend, of course – it was his own stupidity that got in the way. He wasn't being rational about what they had. She was the voice of reason when he couldn't be.

He typed her name in.

 _Mari Takuya_

Kyouya wondered if clicking search would open a Pandora's Box. As always, his curiosity got the better of him.

It was true. She was the newest member of the pharmaceutical sciences department at Toudai. She was a post-doc in the pharmaceutical division with drug delivery. The page had only been updated two months ago. There wasn't even a photo of her – just her publications, one patent from her days in Harvard, and a list of the funding that she received to continue on with her projects at Toudai.

 _Pharmaceutical Sciences Building  
5_ _th_ _Floor, Room 501_

An email and phone number was left with her extension. Kyouya searched up the papers she had authored, spending the rest of the night reading her work. Well, now he knew more than enough to find her if he wanted to. It was 4 AM.

And his pile of paperwork had not depleted.

* * *

He avoided omiais for the rest of the year. Kyouya ignored all calls to his office, to his personal phone, up until Fuyumi showed up to his office in person one afternoon.

"You _have_ to go to this one or our Mother will kill me," Fuyumi begged. Who knew getting her younger brother married off would be such a difficult task? All of the other Ootoris were married. He was one of the most sought-after bachelors of his generation.

"No," the youngest Ootori was firm in his decision.

"Is there someone you're seeing?" his elder sister asked in exasperation. "Just tell me."

"No," Kyouya was not seeing anyone. Not with his schedule.

"Then why don't you want to see these girls? I vetted them myself, I think they are all capable young wome—"  
"I don't have time," the younger brother refused.

"Are you _gay_?" Fuyumi threw her hands up in the air. She just wanted an explanation, she didn't care what it was.  
The Ootori blinked at the question. "No."

"Then _what_?"  
The younger brother shrugged. "I see no need for an heir right now."  
"But everyone else does!

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks. I have no time for a relationship."

Fuyumi crossed her arms. "Fine. If you won't go to the omiais, then you have to come to PR events." She threw him an invitation. "These are specifically designed to be _after_ work, so you can't miss them. Mother thinks this may be a more… modern way of meeting potential candidates."

He growled but took the compromise. It was some charity event that Fuyumi was a chair of. The Ootori Corporation of course, was a large sponsor. He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

* * *

The idea was to show his face to Fuyumi, prove a point, and leave thereafter. Kyouya fixed his tie in the backseat of his ride. It was going to be an hour, tops. It was 7 PM. He could get out of there by 8 PM after the dinner.

Kyouya flashed his invitation despite everyone already recognizing the youngest Ootori. He walked into the event venue, slithering his way towards the shadows. He grabbed a flute of champagne and sipped quietly. Kyouya waited until his table was more populated before taking a seat at his designated area.

It was some event about mental health. Kyouya picked up only the rough context of it and couldn't have cared less. Fancy galas were nothing unfamiliar. He was always on his best behaviour as a curt, mysterious, and the cool CEO. He settled beside Fuyumi who tried to direct his attention to the girl sitting beside him.

He wanted to roll his eyes. Kyouya politely nodded and responded to the young woman's questions with ease. It truly was like talking to a brick of ice, to the point where Fuyumi felt the need to jump in.

"Do you like, _need lessons_ on how to flirt with women?" his sister whispered.  
Kyouya gave a look of offense. "Excuse me?"  
"You're awful at talking to them," Fuyumi wanted to throw her hands up in the air. But they were in the public eye.  
"Maybe I don't _want_ to talk to them," the CEO shot back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw her.

"What is this benefit for?"  
"For research," Fuyumi shot back. "Didn't you read the email I sent you? All of those research groups are at the tables near the back. The donors are up front."  
"All I know is that we are the biggest donor," Kyouya grumbled.

The rest of the dinner was excruciatingly slow. Between the clapping, the food that hardly filled anyone's stomach, and the constant string of awards or funding being announced to varying groups, Kyouya could barely stand it all.

It felt like a waste of time.

"I offer my sincerest apologies on behalf of Dr. Inoue who heads this team of researchers. He is off at a conference overseas and I was asked to fill in for him tonight. I work as one of his post-doctorates..."

Kyouya stabbed at his roasted carrots and chewed quietly. He gulped down more of his wine. There was not enough wine to make him feel like this would ever be a better time than it really was.

"This 2 million in funding will go towards a plethora of exciting projects we have lined up at Toudai. The university has an immense appreciation towards all of our donors. We hope that this will expedite results to instigate changes ahead…"

He could have sworn the woman speaking sounded familiar. Their voice was so refined.

The Ootori looked up from his plate.

She wore a navy gown with a long chiffon skirt that touched the floor. A beautiful headpiece adorned the crown of her head that made her look like a Grecian goddess as the rest of her hair was pinned back. Her lips were a deep maroon as she smiled towards the crowd. She spoke eloquently, as expected of someone that grew up in the upper class. Her eyes were accentuated by a thin line to not overtake from the bold lip. Her lashes were curled to perfection, naturally enlarging the shape of her eyes that burned with passion.

It was her. There was no doubt about it. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"You are absolutely welcome, Dr. Takuya. We look forward to your work in the future," the host seamlessly moved onto the next award as Mari quietly stepped off the stage with the plaque in her hand. She shook the hands of other researchers waiting by the stage, making small talk with them.

Kyouya had completely ignored the girl beside him as he was in disbelief that she would be here. It didn't look like Mari had any clue that he was even in the room.

He was a ghost, as usual.

But it would be naïve of her not to think he wouldn't be nearby. Right? Kyouya made a move to get up but Fuyumi latched onto his arm.

"Where are you going?"  
"To the washroom," the younger brother shot back.  
Fuyumi shook her head. "If you are not back by 10 minutes, I will get security to come after you."

It was an empty threat. Nothing scared the Ootori, especially coming from Fuyumi. He only rolled his eyes. He made his way towards her, only to be stopped by a crowd of women. It felt like he was getting swarmed by girls back in Ouran when he was a host. He was stuck talking to them to save face but he swore that Mari spotted him from the other side of the room. They made a brief moment of eye contact before Mari disappeared into the crowd of researchers near the back of the venue.

Mari saw him talking to a crowd of women. Of course he would be, he was a host. The entire benefit was under the Ootori Corporation's name, it was no surprise that he would be around. Mari smiled a little to herself. She was glad to see that he was doing well for himself.

She was asked to accept the award on behalf of her supervisor at the last minute and of course – the rest of the department had come along too to represent Toudai. She had no time for chit chat with the Ootori, and it seemed like he didn't have any time for her either.

By the end of the night, she disappeared into the shadows, never to be found.

* * *

Kyouya couldn't explain why his chest ached. It was a missed opportunity. But at the very least, he knew he was not hallucinating. She was back.

Why did he ache to see her?

 _Dr. Mari Takuya_ _  
Pharmaceutical Sciences Building  
5_ _th_ _Floor, Room 501  
Ext. 1140_

He wrote it on a sticky note. Then he threw it into a bin, only to retrieve it hours later with all of its crumpled edges. It had been months. Spring had come around with the cherry blossom season in full bloom.

And yet, he could have sworn he was getting grey hairs because of her. Who was he kidding? The grey hairs were because of the stresses of his job. The Ootori took on far more than he needed to – but that was what got him the position of CEO. He worked harder than everyone else.

He typed a draft email to her. It was sitting in his draft folder for a week now.

Subject: (No Subject)

 _Hello Mari,_

 _Could we meet?_

 _KO_

He didn't even have a subject. He didn't have anything else to write. It was a pathetic email, now that he stared at it past midnight. Perhaps it would have been better to draft it under the guise of a business meeting.

Subject: Progress on Drug – MT091/880

 _Hello Mari,_

 _As a large donor to the department of Toudai, the Ootori Corporation deems the right to have quarterly updates on the progression of the project._

 _Let's schedule a meeting to discuss._

 _Regards,_

 _KO_

Much better, he thought to himself. He sent the e-mail near 1 AM. A new e-mail reached his inbox by 11 AM. It was a literal forward from Mari's address to the office administrator. She wrote nothing as the administrator took over the thread.

 _Dr. Takuya cannot discuss the progress due to proprietary concerns. We respect your generosity and the head of the lab, Dr. Inoue would be more than willing to meet with you to discuss the general progress in person._

Kyouya scoffed. "Bullshit," he muttered to himself. It was evident that the process of the drug was so clearly named after _her._ MT. Those were her initials. She certainly knew the project best.

He sat on this email for a bit and tried to distract himself with the onslaught of work that he had on his desk. By the time the weekend rolled around, Kyouya found himself standing outside of the building, looking up at the 5th floor.

 _This is ridiculous._ He told himself. _What are the chances she would be in the lab? It's the weekend._ It would be an empty lab and he was just going so that the gnawing feeling at the back of his head would stop. Did it really matter if she was around?

Sure enough, there was always someone in the lab on the weekends. The building required access after-hours and Kyouya quickly slipped through the doors when someone exited. He took the elevator to the 5th floor and looked at the directory.

501 was at the end of the hallway, beside the corner office of Dr. Inoue. Her lights were off. Of course they would be off. The entire hallway was empty. No one was around. It was stupid. Stupidly obsessive.

He leaned against her office door and massaged his temples. He heard footsteps from the corner of the hall. Great, how was he going to explain himself if it wasn't anyone but Mari?

She was startled as she turned the corner to spot a figure waiting in front of her office. Mari had come back to the lab to finish up the incubation of her cell cultures and to grab a few more data sets. It was no help that the Ootori was now on her back for results. Dr. Inoue called her into the office over the past week to ask about the progress, hoping to expedite some results for an update. Mari only huffed and rolled her eyes at the Ootori's email.

But for him to show up in front of her? It was awfully unexpected.

"Why do you keep coming back?" she asked, eyes softening at the man before her. He looked distressed. What was wrong? Was he okay?

"I wish I knew," he wondered. Kyouya stood outside her office door. "Do you still hate me?"

Mari blinked. "No, I just…" she shook her head. "W-why are you _here_?" Mari was so confused.

"Why did you ignore me at the benefit?" He wanted answers.

"You were occupied with other people to talk to," Mari explained. A whole crowd of groupies, to be more specific. But she wasn't going delve into that. "I had my own group of academics to talk to as well…"

"Then why did you ignore my email?" Kyouya frowned.

The doctorate sighed. "We're working on something that can't just easily be shared… you guys signed onto this project knowing that it was going to be proprietary," Mari closed her eyes. She could feel a headache forming. The Ootori made life harder for her than needed. "I was just following protocol."

"You couldn't have answered that email yourself?"

"Did you _have_ to even email? I'm working on the weekends because of you!" Mari muttered. "I'm running two experiments in parallel with so much data that needs to be analyzed… and you come in with an email wanting to expedite the process!"

Kyouya blinked. "I didn't write that."

"Well you wanted _quarterly_ updates like this is some kind of business with quarterly reports. You can't just rush the science, Kyouya," Mari seethed. She groaned at businesspeople who didn't understand what research was truly like. All they wanted were results. _Good_ results. The kind that drove profits up. The reality was for every good result you got, you probably got hundreds of data sets that were far from ideal.

He didn't expect to get lectured. But it almost felt like what they had before. Her, being exasperated at him, explaining to him concepts that he hadn't considered. And him, always having a way to annoy her, even during their days in Ouran.

"I'm sorry," he perched up his glasses. He was quicker to apologize than he did years ago. He learned that lesson.

Mari blinked. "W-what?" Did she hear correctly? The Ootori never apologized this quickly, for anyone.

"I'm sorry," he repeated more definitely. "I didn't expect this outcome."

The woman sighed. She shoved past him and flashed her key card to open the door to her office. Mari let him in as she settled back at her desk. He took a seat across from her. The entire room was… atrocious. Papers strewn everywhere. Books stacked on top of each other. It was a miracle that she had any room to work or was able to find anything in this mess. Quite frankly, it was very Mari. She had always been a mess.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back?" he asked. She had been in Japan for nearly a year now.

She paused.

"I didn't think you wanted to see me," Mari answered. "We didn't really leave on good terms. And besides, you were doing well for yourself when I saw you at the benefit. You're CEO now."

"But I wanted to see you," the Ootori admitted. He always did. He couldn't explain why but he did.

Mari looked hurt. Pained, almost. Her expression looked like she was afraid. "I don't want think to be any more than it needs to be," she admitted. "I feel like I left you in a state that…"

"I'm fine," Kyouya assured her. "You were right." They were not meant to be in a relationship, not at that time. And perhaps, ever. That was what he told himself.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad you think so. I think I just felt… guilty for the way I left. I felt like… maybe you wanted to talk it out or…"

"Don't," he sighed. It was an embarrassing thing to go over. "I wasn't thinking right."

"Okay," Mari murmured. "Well. No hard feelings, yeah?"

Kyouya nodded. "Yes. No feelings at all," he added.

The woman smiled. "Good. Glad to have you back as my arch-nemesis for… over a decade."

The Ootori couldn't help but to smirk. He was glad to have her back. To the way that they worked best, as good friends.

* * *

Good friends had coffee, right?

Kyouya stopped by Dr. Inoue's office with two coffees in hand. He knocked on her door first, he was half an hour early after all.

"Come in," Mari didn't even past her monitor. "Did you grab the data from the lab? How are the cells looking? The goddamn Ootori is coming in today and I still don't have the full results… Inoue's probably pacing his office right now and muttering about my incompetency…"

"I grabbed you a coffee instead," an unexpected husky voice responded to her. Mari looked up from her monitor. Her ponytail bobbed with the movement as she looked up in surprise. "The goddamn Ootori grabbed you coffee," Kyouya corrected.

Mari groaned. "I thought you were the grad student."

"Surprise," he shrugged. "What is the point of Dr. Inoue giving me the update when you are obviously the one with the results?"

Mari shrugged. "He's the head of the lab. Can't disrespect him. Also, get out of my office before he sees you in here," she warned. "It doesn't look good on me." Kyouya did as told when the grad student ran into Mari's office to give her the hard drive. Mari emailed the results immediately before shuffling herself back into the lab.

She locked the door of her office and turned to the Ootori.

"Can't talk for long," she whispered to him. "I have a long day ahead. Gotta train the kids on the protocol," Mari sighed. She patted him on the back. "Hope Inoue makes sense of the results. If not, he'll probably call me in to talk about it."

Sure enough, the Ootori sat in the office of the lab head as the man droned on about the progression of every other project except for Mari's. She was a bit of a lone wolf, he explained. She did things independently but produced results, especially under high pressure. The experimental data were promising, it seemed.

"I'd like to meet her," Kyouya smiled, despite having seen her only an hour ago. "I wouldn't want to impede on your time. Perhaps she could give me these updates in more depth over the course of the year."

"W-well, if that's what you want," Dr. Inoue had no choice but to comply.

"We'll still be supporting the projects of your lab," the Ootori assured. "You see, Dr. Takuya and I are actually old classmates from high school."

The sudden mention of their past had Dr. Inoue thrilled that his post-doc had such a connection to a large donor. It only meant better things for the lab. Mari was called into Dr. Inoue's office by phone and within minutes she knocked on the door to enter.

Flustered and obviously unamused, she extended a hand to the Ootori, pretending to having only seen him for the first time in years.

"I have to get back into the lab," Mari was blunt. "Especially if you want those quarterly reports to be of actual substance," she shot a glance at the Ootori. He gave his usual host smile.

"I'll see you over the course of the project," Kyouya smirked.

Mari tried her best not to roll her eyes. She bid her farewell to her supervisor and the Ootori.

Somehow, he always found his way back into her life.

And for now, Mari couldn't decide if she was thankful for it or found him a nuisance.

She sipped on the extra large coffee throughout the day. It reminded her of him and she couldn't pinpoint how she felt about that.

She spent the last few years focused on her doctorate, immersed in the lab. Mari took some time off to travel on the weekends – all alone. The cycle repeated. Some friends were made along the way. Flings occurred. But no one stayed. Mari was a constant reminder to others that she was never around to settle.

There was something very comforting about being alone. Mari had no need to please anyone. No one to be obligated to. No partner, no family. She had friends but never ones that she would delve into her past with.

She had no schedule to follow. No timeline to adhere to. No one else to consider. She put herself first. Mari did whatever she wanted to do. It was absolute freedom. And she loved every bit of it. Some wondered if she was lonely – she quite frankly was far from it.

 _Everything with you is just surface-level._

 _Have you ever… considered anything more?_

 _Did you even care?_

She was an accomplished researcher. A scientist. Mari would describe herself as coldheartedly rational. A mentor. And now, an aunt. Mari kept a photo of her nephew on her desk, even if it was always messy. She would always make sure that she would see her nephew's smiling face. Taika was so pure. Mari fell in love instantly. All she wanted to do was to protect him, nurture him, love him.

Mari could easily admit that she had flaws – being emotionally unavailable was one of them. She chuckled to herself as she sipped on her coffee. A part of her knew there was probably more to unpack than she already had, likely in a session of therapy. But Mari had no time for that.

She took another sip of the cold coffee. He would understand, right? He always understood better than most people because of their similar upbringing.

Kyouya was also one of the most coldheartedly rational people she knew. He was, or what she had always thought – to be emotionally unavailable. That was why they worked. But evidently, she was proven wrong years ago in that hotel room.

And yet, he came back.

He came back willingly.

And Mari couldn't pinpoint why exactly. Was it his ego? A point to be proven that he could handle himself without any feelings involved? It confused her. Especially when he apologized to her outright when she told him that she was stuck working overtime because of him. Perhaps he had gotten better control of his ego over the years.

People change and they grow. Mari had to give the Ootori credit – he was more human than she considered him to be.

And maybe, after all these years…

She was the monster.

* * *

 _I wouldn't get married._

She said that to him years ago. She didn't believe in marriage.

Kyouya understood that. She was far out of anyone's league. Anyone who pursued her would mean that Mari would be settling for someone subpar. Besides, marriage jaded the both of them as they grew up in high society. Marriage meant nothing but a business transaction.

One that she never had to make when she wasn't the heir, nor with any net worth. Kyouya sat back in his office and leaned back on the chair. He looked across the high-rise buildings of Tokyo. Something about her made him feel at peace again. Like everything had gone back to normal. Mari had some sort of inexplicable part of him that she seemed to take along with her, no matter what.

It was like having his best friend back. The other best friend – the one that balanced the crazy quirks of Tamaki, the rational one that he could speak to with ease.

He had missed her company. He had her around since Ouran, even if they had a rocky start. Sure, she was beautiful. Elegant. Sophisticated. She had all the qualities of anyone you would find in the upper class.

But the difference was: he respected her. The Ootori knew first hand at how hard Mari worked. The potential that she always had to achieve all of her goals. The tenacity of pushing through all the adversities she faced. Kyouya always respected her point of view, her open-minded perspectives. He learned from her and became a better person for it – even if he would never admit it.

He wasn't in love with her, he told himself.

He didn't know what love was, not in the way that Tamaki had always described it.

This wasn't love, Kyouya repeated to himself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

She lived alone, just as she always liked it. Her quiet mornings always began with a cup of coffee or tea, depending on her mood. She settled on the bar stool at the kitchen and gazed through the glass windows that overlooked the city. Her apartment was minimal with only furniture, no décor whatsoever unless you counted the bookshelf with her textbooks she accumulated over the years. Quiet classical music played in the background.

There was something very comforting in being alone. She had been living like this for years. It was the only thing she knew how to do: be alone.

Mari wondered if this was abnormal. Kanda had settled down with his wife and family at an early age. Even Yuki, the baby of the family, had a boyfriend – a respectable one of course, an heir to a jewelry line. Mari had yet to meet him. She didn't care for it, really. Yuki had multiple publicized relationships from what she had heard.

She was not interested in being with anyone. Mari reconnected with her old Ouran classmates now that she was back in Tokyo, meeting them for a quick coffee and sometimes a meal. They all had significant others that they were with for years. Yet Mari never felt truly alone – with support from her network of academia, of old friends, and classmates but she always felt capable of being just on her own.

Mari was a workaholic. Her research became her significant other – she was married to the work and would not have had it any other way. She stared at the empty space in her apartment.

She hated to admit it but she needed a hobby. Between the lab, teaching, sleeping, and eating – her life was mundane. Mari took up running in the mornings, just to shut off her mind. She contemplated on getting a pet but was hesitant at the lack of time she had to take care of one. Mari lived the life of an old spinster, she thought to herself.

Mari didn't like going out – clubbing, parties, drinking… she had dabbled in that lifestyle in her undergrad before deciding it wasn't for her. Goodness, her life was boring. Yet, Mari found it very fulfilling. Everyone's lives were boring and mundane, slipping in the same routine on the daily.

Hers just happened to be a little quieter.

* * *

He, on the other hand still lived in the mansion. It was always quiet. He hardly stayed there anyway. His parents were somewhere on the property – though he rarely saw them, if at all. Kyouya awoke in the midst of the afternoon and checked his messages.

There weren't any. Just emails. He had work to do. He didn't have a chance to be bored with so many things to do.

 _Don't you have people for this?_ Tamaki once asked when they had gotten brunch together. Kyouya had just received an email to review a document that needed approval. He was in the midst of typing out a response when his friend sighed at him. _Isn't this the point of having directors of departments?_

It was early afternoon by the time he had settled at his desk again. His home office was just another extension of his bedroom. Their butler had gotten him a cup of black coffee that was already placed on his desk when he stepped out of the shower.

He sifted through his email first. The first few were company-related. And then there was this one.

From: _Mari Takuya_

Subject: _MT Progress – August  
_ Sent: _Today, 10:03 AM_

 _Mr. Ootori,_

 _As requested, you can find the encrypted file attached._

 _Let me know if you have any questions._

 _Dr. Takuya_

He opened up the file. Quite frankly, he did not have the scientific background to understand the progress of the drug fully. He skimmed over the conclusion and deemed that the project was progressing, though at a very slow pace. It would have been nice to have an in-depth conversation about this, he thought. He wanted to learn about it. It was genuine curiosity.

From: _Kyouya Ootori_

Subject: _MT Progress – August_

Sent: _Today, 2:12 PM_

 _Mari,_

 _Are you at your lab office?_

 _Regards,_

 _K_

Mari scoffed at the email that popped up on her phone. How did he know she was in her office? It was the weekend but Mari refused to give him the satisfaction of being right. Also, it boggled her mind that he used his company email as if it were for personal use. Perks of being the CEO, she figured. Mari responded quickly on her laptop with emphasis on her formal tone.

 _Mr. Ootori,_

 _I am not._

 _Dr. Takuya_

Kyouya smirked at the quick response of Mari. She replied within minutes. He switched over to his phone and texted her instead. For someone who moved so often, she kept her Japanese phone number after all these years.

 _You must be free then._

Mari groaned at the buzzing of her phone. She was nearly done counting cells before he interrupted her concentration. She had to start over again. What a prick. There was another buzz.

 _Meet me at this address. 5 PM._

She glanced at the location before returning back to work. By the time Mari had called it a day, she wondered if it would be a good idea to go home and change into a more appropriate outfit. Of course, the Ootori would always choose a location that was of high class. All Mari had on was her athletic wear from her morning run. Her stomach grumbled. She had been counting cells pretty much all day.

She _could_ go for an early dinner. Mari sighed and picked up her keys. Her condo was only 3 subway stops away. She could slip into something more appropriate, she thought.

* * *

Mari slipped into the restaurant quietly, spotting him by the windows of the restaurant before the server could even guide her. She held up a polite hand, silently letting the staff know that she could find her own way.

He was gazing through the menu, the reflection of his glasses was the only thing that stood out from his silhouette illuminated by the sun. Mari was always on time – never late. She was taught better than to waste people's time, of course.

Mari layered a floral chiffon blouse under a thin blazer, complete with dark jeans and Louboutins that echoed with every step. She raised her sunglasses to the top of her head and put down her clutch that only had the essentials: phone, keys, and her credit cards. She was in casual clothing, or as casual as one could be covered in designer clothes from head to toe.

Kyouya looked up to the woman who stood tall against the table. Her sunglasses rested firmly against the bun before her long French manicured fingers delicately took them off. She seated herself and asked for a glass of water.

"Too early for wine?" Kyouya smirked.

"You know I don't like wine," Mari scoffed.

She liked craft beer. The commoner stuff. He never understood why but allowed her to take a gander at the menu for a few minutes.

Mari broke the silence first.

"I'm here because I'm hungry after working all day," her tone was snappish.  
"I thought you weren't at your office," Kyouya pointed out.  
"I didn't want to be disturbed," Mari answered without missing a beat. She had things to do and Mari was annoyed that the Ootori had already interrupted her over the afternoon.

"I had some questions about your report," the Ootori continued.

Mari blinked. "Of course." For some reason she had the impression that he just invited her out for no other reason other than to get on her nerves, as he usually had. He had some insightful questions, all of which were easily answered by Mari as if she were teaching a student.

They ordered their meal and the Ootori continued on with his questions as they waited for their courses. Mari narrowed her eyes at him, confused.

"Why are you looking at me like your water had turned sour?"  
Mari shrugged. "Honestly, I thought you wanted to catch up as friends. Not talk science."  
"Do you not want to talk science?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow at her.  
"No, I love talking about science. Particularly _my_ science," Mari admitted, like any academic.

They chewed their food in silence for a bit.

"You will be an aunt again, won't you?" Kyouya changed the topic swiftly. Catching up. Like old friends, as she said.  
"Yeah," Mari nodded. Somehow, the change in topic was welcomed. "Emi is due in a few weeks, actually."  
"And Taika?"  
"I would think he is doing wonderfully… especially for a 5 year old," the aunt smiled at the thought of her laughing nephew.

He tried not to notice her smile. The way she looked down at her food. How she poked at the vegetables that she didn't like but would still shove into her mouth because she was raised better than to waste food. Kyouya was about to look away before she looked up from her plate.

Her eyes were so mesmerizing.

"How about you?" she asked.  
"I have no progeny," Kyouya answered robotically.

Mari rolled her eyes. "I meant nieces or nephews."  
"Oh," the Ootori paused. "I heard something about Yuuichi having children but they bear no meaning when I am the heir. Fuyumi still doesn't want kids. Something about running the foundation for a few more years."

Mari blinked. "Gosh, sometimes I forget how dysfunctional your family is."  
"Yours isn't?"

"Not to your extent," Mari chuckled. "Or I mean, I guess we had a bit of a one-sided rift when I was younger but my siblings and I get along fine now."  
Kyouya shrugged. "The Takuyas are the epitome of the perfect upper-class family."  
"Yeah," Mari blinked. "Kanda has the company. Yuki has her own little empire. I stay out of everyone's way. It's a beautiful ecosystem we built."  
"Rare," Kyouya noted as he put down his cutlery.  
"Well, your family consists of 3 sons and 1 daughter. We had it easy. Kanda, the first-born son. And me, and then Yuki. The obvious choice was Kanda."

Kyouya sat back in his seat. "Imagine if you were any different, Mari."  
"I wouldn't want to be any different, Kyouya," Mari rolled her eyes. "Business is child's play. Science is where we'll revolutionize the world."  
Kyouya scoffed. "Can't bring your science to revolutionize anything if it won't reach the market. Don't be naïve, Mari."

Mari nodded, her expression sorrowful. "Yeah. Money seems to ruin a lot of things."  
"Money is where the power is," Kyouya corrected her.  
She sighed. "We were born into so much power, you know? I wish more of us knew it and honed it correctly."

Kyouya looked at her with amazement. By now, you would have thought the woman should have turned into a cynic, with the cut throat world of academia chipping away at her. Mari knew how the world worked – and it only worked in the favour of those who had power.

"I'm doing my best, Mari," he softly reassured.

Mari looked him in the eye. "I know. I know how much you fund your R&D division and your partnerships with all these academic institutions. Dare I say… I think you are one of the good ones," she flashed him one of those smirks that only made him look away. She was dangerous, and she had no idea.

The servers came to take their plates before handing them the dessert menu. He of course, opted for a coffee. Mari took the tiramisu.

"I missed this," she quietly admitted. She looked away into the window. All of Tokyo was at the palm of their hand. It was stunning and it was certainly no surprise that the Ootori would pick a place with a great view. It was all part of the ambiance.

"What?" the Ootori raised his eyebrow at her. He knew better now than to make assumptions about what they had.  
"Our friendship," Mari smiled. "I like that we could talk about these things."  
"Our privilege and our wealth?" Kyouya smirked.  
"Because no one quite understands… _rich people problems_ ," Mari spat out. "Except for, well, rich people."

Kyouya chuckled. "You know, you dress the part of what those would call _rich_ for someone who tries to differentiate from us."  
"Oh, you mean my Louboutins and my Versace sunglasses?" Mari rolled her eyes. "I don't think this place would let me in if I wore my clothes from Uniqlo, Kyouya."  
"What's Uniqlo?" His voice had no sarcasm to it. It was pure confusion.

Mari blinked.

"Sometimes I also forget you're richer than me," she rolled her eyes.  
"Is that also a hint that I should be grabbing the bill?" the Ootori scoffed.

Mari shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "I have a trust fund, I can certainly grab the bill."  
"It's too late," he coolly said.

"I owe you," Mari muttered in response, rolling her eyes again.  
"Friends don't owe each other anything," Kyouya got up from his seat. Mari followed in suit. She was almost as tall as him with her heels. Mari looked up at him.  
"Not when you're friends with an Ootori," she smirked. "I know better than that."

The Ootori laughed. For real. Mari forgot that his laugh was surprisingly contagious, probably because she laughed at his own laughter. Such a strange sight to see the Shadow King laugh for someone that hardly ever showed any emotion.

He gestured towards the exit and let her walk first, like a gentleman. Mari took the offer and walked ahead without looking back. They stood outside of the restaurant, with Kyouya waiting for his chauffer and Mari waiting for her taxi.

"An honour to have a meal with the ever so busy Ootori," Mari sarcastically commented.  
"You're quite busy yourself," Kyouya brushed off her snarky comment. "Do you have any free time at all?"  
"I run in the mornings," Mari answered honestly. "Clears my mind of… you know, all the things I have to do. You're welcome to join, if you can get up."  
Kyouya scoffed. "I won't." He was uninterested as soon as he heard the word morning.

She chuckled, knowing that he would answer the way he did. "You should try it. You know, when you have a sleepless night or something."

The two friends parted ways amicably.

* * *

"You had dinner with the Takuya girl last weekend," Fuyumi walked into his office as Kyouya had gotten off a conference call. The Ootori made note to fire his secretary for not being able to keep Fuyumi out.

"You had people _follow_ me?"  
"Well, you weren't telling me anything!"

Kyouya closed his office door while his sister caused a scene. It would probably be the talk of the entire upper floor by lunch time.

"We're just friends," the brother seethed.  
"Uh, you paid for her dinner, Kyouya! That's a _date._ "  
"We're _friends_ ," he tried again.

Fuyumi crossed her arms and shook her head. "You guys were classmates in Ouran too?"  
"Well, our friendship had to start somewhere," Kyouya grumbled. "We aren't anything more than that."

The older sister looked at him with an expression that screamed skepticism.

"She doesn't want anything more than that," he said again.  
"She's the same age as you! A prime time for marriage! How could she not?" Fuyumi threw her hands up. By Kyouya's age, she had already been married for 5 years. "She's also of good lineage. Not _great_ but—"

Kyouya perched up his glasses and calmly responded to his sister.

"There is nothing between us, Fuyumi."  
"If there was nothing between you two, then you would have said _we_ don't want anything more than friendship. But you specified _her_ ," Fuyumi smiled in her victory.

The Ootori heir rolled his eyes.

"I respect her wishes," Kyouya's patience was waning.  
"I'm just saying she's a good candidate."  
"Candidate?" Kyouya scoffed. "She doesn't believe in marriage."

Fuyumi tilted her head in confusion. She gave a look of disgust. "Why not?"  
Kyouya laughed. "As if marriage was anything more than a business contract for any of us. She has a point."  
"So you don't believe in marriage either?" his sister pressed on.

The younger brother walked back to his desk and shrugged. "I'm saying she has a point."  
"Then it's perfect," she clapped her hands.  
"Two people who don't believe in the sanctity of marriage… getting married? Fuyumi, are you out of your mind?" Kyouya couldn't roll his eyes farther back to his head.

The older sister let out a large sigh.

"Are you somehow attracted to her allure of being a rebel against the upper class and you, being stupidly uptight finds—"  
"—Fuyumi, I am not an archetype from a romantic comedy," Kyouya closed his eyes and pinched his nose in frustration.  
"Maybe _she_ —"  
"—She isn't something you can reduce to, either. I don't have time for your silly psychoanalysis," Kyouya pointed towards the door.

Fuyumi crossed her arms and marched towards the exit.

"Well fine," the older sister huffed. She had one more card to play. "Did you know that her father was checked into our hospital this morning?"

* * *

Mari never liked hospitals. The only sterile environment she was used to was her laboratory.

" _I have been trying to call you for hours,"_ her mother yelled over the phone. Mari left her phone in her office. No cellphones were allowed in the lab, of course. It was well into the evening before she had checked the 10 missed calls and a plethora of text messages from her family members.

 _"Your father had a heart attack this morning, Mari. We're at the Ootori Private Hospital in Bunkyo._ "

Sure enough, Mari was always the last to arrive in family gatherings. The black sheep of the family, as one would describe. Kanda sat by his wife's side in the hospital suite. Emi wobbled to get up before Mari held onto her sister-in-law's arm and told her it was unnecessary. Yuki's eyes were swollen from the crying. Always the dramatic one, Mari thought to herself.

Mari hadn't seen her parents since the wedding of Kanda. It was no surprise that the wrath of the Takuya matriarch had been building over the years. Mari bowed slightly out of politeness to her mother only to be met with piercing eyes.

"Mother," she curtly greeted.

"After all these years of running off doing whatever you've been doing, you show up when it's far too late! Do you know nothing of filial piety, Mari? We raised an ungrateful—"

"I did not come here to get scolded," Mari tried her best to hold her tongue. She turned to Kanda and asked about their father's condition. He needed to be operated on, but the waitlist was rather long. Two to three weeks at a minimum, Kanda regurgitated what the doctor had said.

Mari excused herself and made a call to the only person she knew that could help.

"Mari," he greeted. He had been expecting her call, anyway.  
"Kyouya," she sighed. "I need a favour…" her voice strained. Mari looked at the time. It was nearly 9 PM. "I know it's late and—"

"Nepotism has no curfew," the Ootori tried to joke. He was only met with silence. It was only then that he realized that this favour made her feel uncomfortable for asking. It shouldn't have been, but she had always been the one with a stronger moral compass than he.  
"I guess you heard about my father then," Mari murmured.

"I'm sorry," Kyouya could only apologize. Whether he apologized for the poor joke or for the unfortunate events, Mari did not bother to dwell on it. It was hard enough to get the Ootori to apologize in the first place.  
"Heart disease is the leading cause of death," she shrugged. "Can't help but to fall into the statistic, I suppose."

It was her way of joking. He knew that by now.

"I can do whatever I can," Kyouya reassured. "I will personally see to the fact that his surgery be moved to tomorrow."  
"How?" Mari blinked. "Are you getting someone to work overtime? How do hospitals work? Will someone else suffer for it?"

"I'll take care of it, Mari," he softly reassured. "Go. Spend time with your family."

She let his words sink in for a bit.

"I really don't want to," Mari sighed. "I forgot that my mother was… quite the nuisance."  
He laughed. It was relatable. Only in rich dysfunctional families, he thought.

"Well… I'll let you go," she reluctantly said goodbye. "Thank you, Kyouya. I mean it."  
Mari stepped back into the hospital suite with all eyes on her.

"I made a call to the Ootori," she explained monotonously.  
"So did I," Kanda added. "Akito said he couldn't do anything as hospital director of another hospital location. He put in a word for us though." Mari remembered that the Ootori's private facilities spanned across the country. Akito's power did not compare to Kyouya's, of course.

"I called the CEO," Mari explained. "You met him briefly at an alumni event at Harvard," she reminded.

"Kyouya Ootori?" Kanda's eyes widened. "You're still in contact with him?"

Mari shrugged. "We've known each other since Ouran."

"I've known Akito since Ouran too," Kanda grumbled. "Did Kyouya say anything?"

Mari shook her head. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"Wait and see," their mother repeated coldly. "That isn't enough. What have you possibly contributed to this family?"  
The middle child exhaled. "I don't understand why we have to focus on my shortcomings when we are here for Father."

"We hardly ever see you," the mother spat. "You show up to the bare minimum of family events."

The other Takuya siblings could do nothing but hold their tongue. Kanda and Emi knew how often Mari would come to take care of Taika, her beloved nephew. Mari had come to Yuki's launch party for her new line of jewelry, which meant a lot considering the fact that neither Kanda nor Emi had shown. Mari had been there for her siblings when they needed it the most.

"You had such a bright future ahead of you and you decided to go and do what?"  
"Get 3 degrees," Mari muttered with gritted teeth.

"You could have been a world class pianist, Mari," her mother scolded. "What good does being an academic bring?"  
The middle child could not help but laugh at the logic. "What good does being a pianist bring?"  
"A worthy reputation," the Takuya matriarch filled in the blank for her middle child. "How can we marry you off if you are just some academic?"

The doctorate shrugged. "I won't get married then."  
"That is absolute nonsense. You are obviously of marriageable age. People are _asking_ about you."

Mari chuckled. "Oh, so I _do_ exist. Kanda is doing a superb job at upholding the family honour. Yuki has her own company and she has been doing so wonderfully on her own. Does it matter what I do?"  
"What _do_ you do, Mari?" her mother snarled.  
"I research," she answered curtly. "I don't think my line of work interests you, even if I did go into depth so I will spare you the time. But I will tell you that I do nothing that dishonours the name of this family."

"You do _nothing_ ," the Takuya matriarch repeated. "Why did you even stop playing the piano?"  
Mari blinked at the question, processing what had been said. "You never knew?"

"What do you mean?" her mother narrowed her eyes. Her patience was thin.

The grown woman took a step back and shook her head. She was tired of it all. Mari only realized it now. "You never cared to even look into what happened?" Mari should have known that she was always going to be the one child that was overlooked until it was convenient for her to show up. No one said anything until the mother spoke.

"We all thought you had quit to prove some sort of… silly point!" Mari looked around to find her entire family looking away from her in discomfort. She could only sigh.

"Louise died." The words were easier to roll off her tongue than it was over a decade ago. She had come to terms with it all, but it seemed like it was still news to some. "More specifically, she committed suicide."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Kanda pitched in, his tone soft but cautious. Emi's hand was over her chest in sympathy. Yuki's eyes welled up in tears in thinking how her older sister must have felt to have gone through it all alone.

"You were busy at Harvard. Yuki was too young to understand. Our parents were handling the business. Who was I supposed to tell?" Mari muttered. "It's fine… now," she added. "So forgive me for not wanting to pursue a career out of something that traumatized me in my adolescence," Mari's words were sharp and her eyes darted at her mother.

"I didn't know," the Takuya matriarch offered.  
"You didn't ask," Mari responded without missing a beat. "No one did, so no worries on that."

The family let the blanket of silence settle before Mari spoke again.

"I do not intend to tarnish the name of our family," she began. "But I live peacefully and quietly. So yes, perhaps I do _nothing_. I certainly do nothing to stop the family's dynasties from thriving. I play my role just as well as everyone else."

"Mari—" her mother tried again.

"It doesn't matter what you think of me now or what you could have done. I ask that you respect my choices and my life," Mari firmly stated.  
"Of course we do," Kanda chimed in. "I always have."  
"I know, Kanda," Mari murmured. "My siblings were never the issue. It was you," she turned to her mother.

"Are you calling me a bad parent?" the matriarch accused with her eyes narrowed.  
"I never called you anything. I am grateful for the opportunities that have been provided," Mari made clear. "I just ask that you let me live the way I want to."

The baby of the family nodded. "Yeah, you have given us the freedom to thrive – why not let Mari do the same?"  
"Because Mari never liked following rules," their mother snapped.

She blinked in confusion. This made no sense to Mari. "What have I done?"  
"You mingled with the commoners for so much of your life that you have forgotten your roots. Bringing home a white boy from America and thinking you—"

"That was almost a decade ago," Mari explained with exasperation. Bryan was hardly ever on her mind nowadays. He had broken her heart just as she had with his. Mari never knew if she could be worthy of a partner ever again, quite frankly. "My goodness, I was naïve and I was young. I thought I was in love and I thought he could handle the crazy dysfunctional upper class but he couldn't. And I couldn't either for that matter."

"So you left us for nearly a decade?"

Mari crossed her arms and shook her head at her mother. "What are you getting at, Mother? Are you angry because I haven't been around to be the model daughter to show off over the past decade?"

Kanda placed a hand on Mari's shoulder. _That's enough_. She relented.

"We've had a long day," Kanda tried to diffuse the tension. "Let's meet tomorrow."

"For another day of family bonding," Mari muttered sarcastically.

She was the first to leave without even looking back.

* * *

Mari reached her office at her usual time: 8 AM. Before the rest of the lab had trickled in, Mari liked the peace and quiet of the hallways and the time to plan her day. She sipped on her tea, mulling in her thoughts on this rainy summer day. Her phone vibrated 20 minutes past the hour.

"Kyouya," Mari picked up. "You're up early."

"I thought to let you know that your father's surgery has been moved to the end of the week, not today as promised." Turns out, even the CEO couldn't quite meddle with surgery schedules that were made well in advance. End of the week was the best he could do as he spoke with the cardiac department in an emergency video call in the morning.

"That's quite alright," Mari murmured. "You have done more than enough, really."

There was a pause.

"You sound anxious," Kyouya commented. Her tone was more cautious than usual.  
"It's nothing," Mari brushed off. "I apologize for the inconvenience… and this is far too early for you to be up." She knew her friend well.

Kyouya sighed. He had to admit there was a headache forming at his temples.

"You probably haven't even had your coffee yet," Mari murmured. "I won't keep you."  
"We can get coffee together," the words just fell off of his tongue. He wasn't sure why he said that either.

She paused, mulling over the idea. "Yeah, I guess that's the least I could owe you. Let's meet at the café near my university."  
"The upscale one?"  
"Of course," Mari grumbled. It was a secluded café that attracted only the rich and sophisticated. Their high teas were always booked. It was still fairly early in the morning by the time he would reach there. Mari figured it would be suitable for him, and early enough that they could get a table.

"I'll see you in an hour." He hung up.

Kyouya jumped out of his desk chair, closing the lid of his laptop and placing files on this desk quickly into his briefcase. He took a shower and noted that his headache had magically disappeared as he exited out of his bathroom. Never had he gotten ready at this pace especially at this hour of the morning. Even his chauffer was surprised by the sudden call to bring the car around.

"I'll drive myself," Kyouya mumbled. He could only imagine Mari making some sort of snarky comment about having a chauffer drive him around everywhere and that he did not have to lift even the slightest of a finger. Mari always prided herself in being independent – and as much as Kyouya hated to admit it, he respected that.

Mari arrived early to the café, choosing a spot by the window. Her mind was all over the place. She reeled from last night's events, feeling like she always had: not belonging. She drifted off into thinking about her work, wondering if her project would ever find success. She felt lost with far too many things on her mind.

 _I need therapy_ , Mari thought to herself.

Kyouya spotted her immediately and walked over at a hurried pace – it seemed like he had been in a hurry with his hair a little ruffled and his outfit more casual than Mari would have expected.

"I didn't realize parking in the city would be such a hassle," he grumbled.  
Mari narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Why would you _drive_ in the middle of Tokyo? Public transport here has always been the most efficient." Mari was much more acquainted with what he considered the _commoner lifestyle_. It always boggled Mari when the upper class had no common sense sometimes.

She shook her head and sighed. A quick gesture to the server who was nearby had two coffees served at their table within minutes. Mari let the Ootori drink his coffee in peace for a few minutes while she too, settled back into her seat and let her mind wander.

"Your father will be fine," Kyouya tried to reassure her after the coffee had kicked into his system. "Our hospitals will provide the utmost care."  
"I know," she gave a weak smile. "Thank you. I do appreciate your efforts."  
"Then why do you look so forlorn, Mari?"

She was surprised at his comment. "Is that what I look like?" She would have expected him to comment on how tired she must have looked. How pale her face must have been, especially as they sat near the window.

Kyouya studied her face again. She pushed up the frames of her glasses and let them rest on her head. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to delicately rub her eyes without ruining her makeup. She sighed and looked back up at him, squinting a little without her glasses. She was still so beautiful even after all these years.

"Perhaps forlorn is not the word I would describe myself right now," she murmured. "I know my father is in good hands."  
"Then what is it?" Kyouya asked, bluntly without caring about being delicate.

"I never really belonged in my family," Mari voiced her thoughts out loud. "I was always forgotten as the middle child. I accepted it. I relished in that reputation. But last night…" she shrugged. "I forgot how much it hurt that they never cared to understand why I was so distant. I was disappointed."

"Dysfunctional families are our specialty," the Ootori murmured. He lifted his hand for another refill of his coffee. Mari nodded in agreement.  
"Yeah. Though I suppose my family is not as jaded as yours. They still believe that we are meant to be one cohesive unit. I seem to be the only one who went rogue."  
Kyouya shrugged. "You've done well for yourself."  
"Thanks," Mari chuckled. "I think so too."

The Ootori could not offer many words of consolation. That was not his specialty. Emotions over logical reasoning never sat well with him, but he knew Mari felt the same. They were two peas in one pod, even if they both hated to admit it.

"Expectations will always lead to disappointment," Kyouya answered. "That is why we have none when it comes to family."  
"Hm," Mari mulled over that idea. "That's messed up."

"Is it?" Kyouya was always taught that this was just another method of survival.  
"Call me naïve or idealistic," the scientist grumbled. "But I do not think our cynicism will do us any good on developing relationships."

"What relationships are there to develop?"

Mari laughed.

"I think our friendship has blossomed immensely over the years, even if it took over a decade."

Kyouya took a sip of his coffee. It was good coffee, he had to admit. The dark roast was specially imported from Java. Each kilogram costed hundreds of dollars. It was the sort of coffee fit for a king – as it were, he was the Shadow King after all.

"The point is," Mari explained. "We're only human. Even if I don't want to feel, I still feel the anger, the disappointment, the sadness no matter what."  
"And you do not feel happiness?"

The scientist shook her head. "I feel happiness. I feel love. I feel all the highs and all the lows. I just… need to process it."  
"Processing," Kyouya repeated. "For a human, you sound quite like a robot."  
She rolled her eyes. "For a robot, you are doing a poor job at acting human now," she shot back.

They were always able to banter like this. The two smiled at each other, missing the days of how they would sit on his couch years ago and talk about the smallest things. The things that made them annoyed throughout their days, the odd thought that they found amusing, the time they both aired out their grievances against one another.

"I need therapy," Mari admitted. "I just always thought I was okay. But I don't really think I am."  
"Why?" The Ootori sounded surprised.

She blinked. "I just feel unsettled… emotionally. I should work out some things that I might have been repressing for a long time."  
"Like what?" he pressed.

Mari rolled her eyes. "Nothing for me to burden you with."  
"It's fine," Kyouya murmured. "We're friends. Tamaki is always telling me stupid things."

"The things I tell you are not stupid," the woman huffed. Kyouya would be an awful therapist, she thought to herself.  
"All the more reason to share," the Ootori tried again.

Mari shook her head. "Emotional baggage is not your field of expertise, Ootori-san." The woman was set in her ways, refusing to crack under the Ootori's most convincing smile. Though it was more of a sinister grin if anything.

"I always thought I was normal," Mari explained after he stared at her in offense of her last comment. "More normal than the rest of my family members."  
"You mean, you had commoner-like ways?"

Mari bit her tongue at the phrase commoner. "How did Haruhi put up with you guys…" she grumbled. "The point is, I thought I was down-to-earth and I thought… I could be normal and live quietly. Maybe happily too."  
"With a trust fund," Kyouya added.

Mari sighed at the truth. She was a trust fund kid. He was stupidly rich. Mari was never going to escape this lifestyle, even if she tried to hide it.

"I mean, my career is going splendidly… for an academic," the scientist shuddered. "But I thought I was happy and I guess, last night with my family just made me realize I was far from it."  
"Families are not meant to be a source of happiness," the Ootori brushed off.

Mari shook her head. "I think they can be. Or I mean, not my _own_ family but – you know. Actual families support each other."  
"We don't have that luxury, Mari." Kyouya rolled his eyes. He spent his life despising his brothers, plotting against them like they had at him. Kyouya saw the family butler more often than he saw his father.

"It's odd that we call emotional support a luxury, don't you think?" his friend pointed out with a smile. "It shouldn't be like that."  
"Is that what commoners think?"

Mari took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah," she nodded. "At least from what I had observed." Observed being the keyword because the reality was, Mari would never be one of them. It took her years to come to that conclusion.

"Emotional support," Kyouya grumbled. "Sounds like a sham. Financial support is much more practical."  
Mari nodded. "Yes, you are correct. But alas, I am human. And because we are rich, we can pay someone to be our emotional support," she half-joked.

"Waste of money," the Ootori rolled his eyes. "I can just be your emotional support. I'm your friend."  
Mari laughed, nearly spilling her coffee. "Goodness, you are really out of your element here, Kyouya."

He crossed his arms in annoyance. He didn't like how she belittled him like this but she was the only one who could do it without him threatening her. She was not afraid of him, she never had been.

"I'm trying to be a good friend," he huffed as he rolled his eyes.  
Mari paused. He really _was_ trying. "Thank you," was all she could say. Her eyes grew soft at him, and suddenly all was forgiven. "You've done more than enough, Kyouya," she told him. "I know my father will be in good hands."

"But are you?" he raised an eyebrow.

She blinked at the question, not expecting the diversion to her. "I don't think it matters right now." It was her father that the Takuya family was worried about. Mari always quietly slipped into the shadows, dealing with her own problems. Her own _rich people problems_ she thought to herself.

"It matters," Kyouya pressed. "It matters to me. You matter."  
Mari let out a soft sigh, her gaze lingered away at the table with her now lukewarm coffee mug. Her delicate fingers reached for the handle. "Thanks."

"I mean it," the raven-haired King pressed on. She did not look convinced. She always had that look, the way her eyes would gaze into the distance as she thought. But Mari nodded to him in acknowledgement.

"I know," she gulped down the rest of her coffee. "I appreciate it."

"Do you?" he squinted at her.  
"Well, I'm paying for your coffee," Mari smirked. She took out her credit card – the kind that only the elite carried. She let the card rest between her two fingers, the cool metal made a clinking sound when it touched the marble table. It was the same card that Kyouya had of course.

Mari coolly handed it to the server, even asking for a kilogram of coffee to be ground and bagged to go. A few hundred dollars was charged within seconds to no blink of an eye for the two of them.

"My gift to you," Mari murmured quietly. "A kilogram of productivity, imported from the fields of Java, only oceans away."  
"You know I don't make my own coffee," he monotonously shot back, raising the frames of his glasses.

The scientist bit back her tongue. "Then you better learn because my trust fund only lasts for the next decade."  
"Unless you get married," Kyouya reminded.

The server came by with a beautifully wrapped bag of ground coffee beans, placed in another travel bag for convenience. The aroma of the fresh beans wafted through their noses. Beautifully rich and nutty, it was hard resist keeping the bag for herself. Mari slid the bag over to his side of the table.

"It isn't much," Mari had to admit. "But take it as collateral for whatever you need in the future."  
"I really can't imagine needing anything from you," the Ootori chuckled. He was half-joking.

Mari shrugged. "I can't say I offer much."  
"You could offer yourself," the Shadow King lowly replied. His mouth twitched into a smirk. Mari could tell he was cracking a joke. Or rather, _trying_ to crack a joke. A poor one at that. Kyouya tried to cover it up as he sipped the last bit of his own coffee.

"If you insist," the woman raised an eyebrow at him, her finger outlining the edge of her painted wine lips. Her voice low and sultry.

He choked as he met her eyes. Just one look had him thinking she was serious and that elicited an involuntary response.

"I," he tried to clarify himself in between fits of coughing. "I didn't mean—" Kyouya tried to gasp for air. He was now making a scene. "For you to…"

Mari couldn't help but to grin.

"Relax," the woman leaned back in her seat. She plopped her glasses back onto her face and placed her credit card into her card holder with ease. She travelled light, of course. She crossed her legs and smirked.

"I own a measly 4.5% in the family company. Enough to sit on the board and vote, only in emergency situations. Hardly enough wealth to make me worthy enough to be by your side. The only thing I have going for myself is the fact that I'm pretty smart and I have a doctorate to prove it."

Kyouya had finally settled down and cleared his throat.

"Right," he agreed. _She's of good lineage. Not great but…_ Fuyumi's words rang in his head. At that time he only wanted to argue about why Mari's lineage was not the most defining thing about her. Kyouya could only nod vigorously at his friend's statement for now.

"I should get going," Mari looked at the time on her phone. "I need to wrap some work before heading to the hospital again today. Hopefully father wakes up and we'll play 'happy families' tonight."

"Let me know how it is," Kyouya stood from the seat. "Let me drive you," he offered.

Mari rolled her eyes. "I can walk five minutes, Kyouya. Just get to work. Enjoy the coffee." She patted him on the shoulder. He could smell her perfume lingering in the air. Floral notes of rose and gardenia. She smelled like a sophisticate. She smelled... almost intoxicating to him.

He watched her leave, noting how she gracefully bid goodbye to the servers with just a slight nod. Her steps were light but the heels she wore echoed down the hall. All he had left of her was a whole kilogram of imported coffee.

But quite frankly, he couldn't have had it any other way.

Kyouya stared at the bag of beans.

Perhaps he could ask his secretary how to make coffee today.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"You can't keep fighting her like that," Kanda chided.

"I didn't start it," Mari rolled her eyes. It was a childish excuse. But none of her siblings were ever scolded like Mari was. Never gotten the disappointed sigh. Never forgotten for being their pride and joy. Mari stopped being envious when she realized that there was no point in vying for her parents' approval.

For a while, all she needed was Louise. Her mentor. Mari used to revere the way Louise would clap for her when she played it _exactly_ as her mentor envisioned it. The way that she believed in Mari in a way that no one else would. How ambitious Louise was in molding a champion, not just on a national level – but on a worldly scale.

It was all Mari knew. Nothing else but the 88 keys on the Steinway she had in their grand living room. It felt like her world had swallowed itself whole when there was no more Louise. No more music. Mari was lost and horrendously unprepared for life without anyone to rely on.

Yuki sighed. "She's getting old, Mari. Honestly, it's a miracle she didn't faint when you yelled back at her last night."

"Filial piety is something I don't have, remember?" Mari muttered.

The three siblings waited outside their father's hospital suite until visitation hours were finally allowed. None of the three could actually visit during regular hours – all were far too busy with their work. Approval was needed and thus, another checkup by the doctors had to be done. Truly, private health care felt more like being coddled at this point, Mari thought to herself.

"She never thought you would come back," Kanda explained.  
"And when you did," Yuki continued. "You never went to see her."  
Mari shrugged. "What would we even talk about?"  
"Well, Louise would have been a good starting point," Kanda offered a suggestion. "Why didn't you tell either of us?"

The middle child crossed her arms. "What was the point? Yuki was too young to bear the emotional burden. You were across the world in Boston," she pointed to Kanda. "I mean, I got counselling. I think I would have turned out very differently had I not."

"You got _counselling_?" the word rolled off Yuki's tongue, souring her expression.  
"Counselling, therapy, whatever you want to call it," Mari rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it made me functional and I'm grateful for it."  
Kanda sighed. "This doesn't look good, Mari."  
"Neither does crippling depression," Mari retorted.

"Are you on meds?" Yuki chimed in.  
Mari blinked. "Why do we avoid mental illness like the plague?"  
"Are you… okay?" they both asked in their own way, simultaneously.

The siblings looked at their sister as though she were a spectacle. Mari stood up from the seat and faced her brother and sister.

"I'm fine," she firmly stated with her arms crossed. "And even if I wasn't, I'd go see someone about it."  
"You can't tell mother about this," Kanda huffed. "She'll think you're mentally insane."

Mari rolled her eyes. "I took care of myself when no one else could. I don't think there is anything wrong with taking care of your mental health. Being hush-hush about it won't help."  
"Just… keep it quiet," Yuki urged. "People don't respond well to these things."  
"Yeah," Mari scoffed. "I can tell."

Her siblings shared a look of a worry between them. Mari was always the wildcard. The one who never turned out to be quite as everyone expected. The quiet docile child of the family had never been Yuki, nor Kanda. It was Mari – and it was evident that she had grown up.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, turning the heads of the Takuya children. It was the matriarch, of course.  
"Mother," Kanda was the first to greet the elder. He was her favourite, after all.  
"Are you alright?" Yuki also did not hesitate to show concern for their mother. Mari only stood with her arms crossed, trying her best to keep her eyes from rolling.  
"I am doing alright," the mother answered with a sigh. She gave Mari a once-over and sighed disappointedly. Mari did not hold back a glare this time. It was only second nature at this point.

The family entered the room of the patient. He laid upright, conscious this time around. It was certainly different from the last time the family had visit him. The children greeted their father quietly.

"Mari," the father was surprised to note the presence of his middle child. "You're here," he croaked through the oxygen mask.  
"Of course," Mari answered nonchalantly while their mother glared.  
"Are you well?"  
"I would ask the same of you," the middle child half-joked.

"They say I'm going in for surgery," the elder told her, as if she wouldn't have known. Mari had been gone for so long, he almost did not recognize how tall she had grown. How beautiful she had become after nearly a decade – her style was soft but sophisticated. He only remembered her in the gowns she wore on stage as a teenager when she competed for the national title.

"Yes," Mari softly confirmed. "It was the earliest they could do, I'm sorry."  
"Why are you sorry, my dear?" her father softly asked. "You didn't give me a heart attack. Did you arrange for this?"  
"I tried my best," the former pianist answered quietly.

Her father turned to the mother of his children. "I told you she would turn out fine. She has friends in high places," he pointed to Mari weakly. "High enough places to save me."  
"We'll talk about this when you're better," the matriarch patted her husband on the arm.

"She has a PhD in Medicinal Chemistry, my goodness – she is the smart one out of the family, isn't she?" Her father could only smile weakly. Kanda and Yuki could only nod and return the smile. They had to agree with that.  
Mari raised her eyebrows in surprise. "How did you know?"  
"You think I don't keep tabs on you, my child? Someone had to." It was obvious that the mother did not.

The doctorate shook her head. "No."  
"You're my flesh and blood," the sentence was followed by a fit of coughs.

Mari let her father recover before she asked the topic of interest from the night prior.

"Then did you know about Louise?"  
"Yes," he nodded solemnly. "A shame."  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Mari threw her hands up in exasperation.  
"It isn't a good topic to bring about, don't you think?"

Mari only sighed and shook her head. "I cried alone. I grieved. I was so incredibly shaken as a child and you thought to not even comfort me? I was sixteen. I was not even an adult." How could Mari not feel the anger that raged through her veins?

"You always took care of yourself," their father responded, almost proudly.  
"I was a child. I needed someone," Mari almost cried out. It was stupid to think of now – already over a decade had past but the feelings of loneliness were still raw. The emptiness she had felt suddenly swallowed her stomach whole, she felt a darkness that she sunk into years ago come crawling back at the back of her mind. The guilt ate her up alive.

Cognitive behavioural therapy only worked if you practiced it.

 _It was not my fault._

 _I cannot change the events of what happened, no matter what scenario played out._

 _Being a pianist is not the only thing that defined me._

"I'm sorry," was all her father could say. "You seemed to do so well on your own, Mari. From Harvard, to Oxford, and now Toudai. Only good things could be said about you, my child."  
"Well evidently not good enough," Mari snarled at her mother.

"You don't seem to mind what the rest of the world thinks though, do you?" the old man tried to chuckle. But it hurt to do anything except to sit in bed and rest.  
"Correct," Mari rolled her eyes. "Not that I needed to hear it but I would appreciate no more interference with how I choose to live."

"You live as you wish, dear," the father granted his child's wish. "All my children should live as they wish, so long as they are contributing to society."  
"Well said," Kanda chimed in. Yuki could only nod in agreement, beaming at their father.

The Takuyas were still of course, the model family.

Mari couldn't help but to feel out of place despite it all.

* * *

"I don't know, it felt like an intervention," Mari huffed.

Kyouya struggled to keep up with her. How did he end up in this situation? He was running with her at 7 AM in the morning around the block of the park that was nearby her condo. He had an early morning call with an American business partner. Their international expansion came at the price of his sleep schedule. Mari seemed to have a morning regimen that just so happened to align with his stupidly crazy hours on the weekend.

It was nice in theory but he was also on the verge of death through exhaustion.

"Like, what the hell? Telling me not to go to therapy and keeping it on the down low?" she continued without even losing her breath.  
Kyouya wanted to die as he gasped for air. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and the back of his neck. He felt sticky from the sweat that clung to his body.  
"And then my dad drops a bombshell on me that he already knew about Louise after all these years? I couldn't help but to be angry for my 16 year old self."

He wished that she would just stop for a minute. But he didn't even have enough breath to say the word _stop_. She was jogging and speaking with him at the pace of a kilometer every 8 and a half minutes like it was child's play.

"And now we're suddenly playing happy families all over again? Am I normal for feeling resentful? Like, I went through at least a year of therapy to at least function normally again while in Ouran. I left this toxic envir—"

Mari looked to her left and realized that her friend was no longer running beside her. She turned to find Kyouya hunched over the railing of a bridge that overlooked a koi pond. He was huffing and gasping for air. Guilt washed through her immediately before she jogged over.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. Mari crouched down to meet his eyes. He looked like death. "You didn't have to come, you know."  
He didn't even respond. He couldn't. Kyouya was still trying to catch his breath. Mari stood and offered a hand for him to get upright again. He took it with ease.  
"You're a good friend," Mari murmured. "I know you hate mornings. I was surprised when you said yes when I told you I was going for a run. Who knew you'd be up at 6 AM," she sighed. Mari had been running in the mornings for years. It was a habit, nowadays. It felt strange not starting off her morning with a run.

"Why," he gasped. "Do you even," he inhaled again. "Do this?"  
"It feels good," Mari smiled weakly. "You'll feel it if run more."  
"This is…" Kyouya was parched. It was hard to swallow. His whole body ached. He felt blood pumping through the veins of his forehead.  
"Exercise," Mari finished the sentence for him. "It only sucks the first couple of times. Come on, let's get you some electrolytes."

They took an elevator up the skyscraper with Mari flashing her card at the security and nodding to let her guest through. It was a penthouse that overlooked the city of Tokyo. Mount Fuji was in clear sight. This was certainly the kind of property a trust fund could buy.

She had minimal furniture. A living room that hardly looked like it was lived in. A bookshelf, no, multiple bookshelves with textbooks and books she had collected over the years. Her kitchen was spotless. Her fridge full of fresh produce when she opened the door to grab him a refreshing beverage.

"Nice place," the Ootori commented now with his breath back.  
"Thanks," Mari was half-expecting some quip about indulgence and luxury for someone who always spoke about being in the 1%. The truth was that Mari liked having her space. Real estate was always going to be a safe investment.

"Half this place is empty," Kyouya looked around. There was a large area that could have been for seating in the living room – but instead she had a measly sofa and love seat. A large-screen TV and a stand that probably was rarely used given how busy she was. Mari expected no guests and did not care to have any.  
"Um, it's uh, the minimalist… trend," Mari joked. She mostly used this place to sleep and cook when needed. It had a place to store her closet. Everything else was pretty much decoration.

"The view is lovely," Kyouya admitted.  
"Yes," Mari agreed. "The um, minimalist furniture is meant to not obstruct the view." It was obvious none of it was intentional.

"Is this where all your trust fund goes to?"  
The woman scoffed. "I make money too."  
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "Your salary could not buy this place unless you worked 50 years." Real estate in Tokyo was scarce. Everyone knew at least that much.

"You can shower here," Mari offered, changing the topic after looking at him for a while. Kyouya had sweat buckets trying to keep up with her. He was marginally better than before.  
"With you?" he took a sip from his drink coolly. Comments like these didn't faze her.  
"There are multiple washrooms on the floor," Mari shrugged. Her entire flat was a whole floor of a skyscraper. There was plenty of room for one. Even four people could live comfortably here. "Take your pick," she told him.

"Where will you shower?" Kyouya put down his beverage. He nearly reached for his glasses only to remember that he wore contacts today.  
"Wherever you won't be," she smirked.

Mari left him to explore her flat. Not there was much to snoop around – the minimal furniture truly made her entire place look empty, it still looked like she was in the process of moving in. Finding the guest room and its own ensuite bathroom was not difficult. He could already hear the water running in her own master bedroom. By the time he came out, he realized his clothes were taken away and replaced by an old t-shirt of his that he hadn't seen in years.

He stepped out into her living room with a pair of sweatpants that were evidently hers, and not his. They cut off in the middle of his calf. Mari was making coffee using her glass flask. Simple and easy, the coffee drained through the filter for the aroma to fill up the entire kitchen.

"I didn't know you still had this," Kyouya pointed to his old Harvard t-shirt. The letters had now faded after years of wearing it as pyjamas.

She only shrugged as she poured the filtered coffee into a mug before sliding it across her white marble island."It didn't feel right to throw it away," she admitted before taking a sip of her own coffee, two parts cream to sugar.

"Why not?" Kyouya blinked.  
Mari shrugged. "I don't know. Would you throw away something that Tamaki left behind at your place?"  
"Yes," he answered. The dumb blond probably deserved it. And besides, Tamaki could easily buy whatever he left behind.  
"Fine, how about…" Mari tried to think of someone from the Host Club that he did not despise. She drew a blank. Quite frankly, Mari did not pay enough attention to the club during her years in Ouran. The only person she really knew other than Tamaki was Haruhi.

"Thanks," he told her. Kyouya could tell that Mari was struggling.  
"Don't worry about it," she brushed off. It really wasn't that big of a deal. "Sorry about this morning."  
"Don't worry about it," he reciprocated.

"You almost passed out," Mari reminded. "Sorry, it was just me dumping all my stupid baggage for the past week or so. I didn't think you would text."  
"You said you ran in the mornings."  
"And you wanted to run?" Mari narrowed her eyes in confusion.  
"It sounded nice in theory." Successful people always had some sort of fitness regimen. His was never really running. Some strength training every once in a while. He liked to swim in their private indoor pool in the mansion instead.

"Sorry to disappoint," she offered. "I still owe you a meal."  
"For what?"  
"A lot," Mari admitted. "Between handling my father's medical affairs to listening to me talk about my stupid problems."

"And you think a meal would suffice?" the Ootori raised an eyebrow at her. Mari couldn't tell if he was joking. But judging how the Ootori worked, it probably wasn't a joke.  
"I'm indebted to you," Mari sighed. "Sorry, don't have a lot of friends. Or rather, friends who are not really part of my work-life. This isn't really something I can fix with a coffee run or covering for someone's experiment while they are gone…" she murmured mostly to herself. She averted her eyes out of embarrassment.

"I was kidding," he told her earnestly. "Pulling your leg, as they would say."  
"Your delivery is awful, it always has been," Mari responded without missing a beat. "But I do appreciate you and I meant what I said." She reciprocated his honesty.

He reached for her hand, the motion so swift that it only felt natural to the both of them. Mari did not pull away, nor did she shy away from the eye contact they made. He gave a small squeeze to her perfectly manicured hands, a subtle sign of her high-class upbringing. The Ootori did not linger and pulled away to drink more of his coffee. Mari almost reached for his hand again, missing the warmth of his touch. Instead, Mari held onto her ceramic mug that was now lukewarm from the coffee that had cooled.

"What are you going to do with all this space?" he changed the topic, looking across her near empty flat. They were back to the same topic about her flat.  
"Live in it," Mari responded dumbly. "What else?"  
"It hardly looks like a home, Mari," the Ootori pointed out. "The only furnished part of this place is your bookshelf."

Mari shrugged. "Whatever. It's my space. I like it the way it is."

"It looks temporary," Kyouya commented. "Must be because you are so used to moving," he continued.

She blinked and let the words sink in. "Yeah," she softly responded. "I guess," her admittance was reluctant.

"Are you going to move again?"  
"Probably not," Mari sighed. "Unless I get hired to be a professor elsewhere."  
"There are many universities in the world," Kyouya reminded. "I always thought you would never come back."

The scientist shook her head. "Me neither."  
"So, why?"

She didn't know. It was a convenient option, quite frankly. No need to deal with work visas. No need to deal with the paperwork that came with being a resident in a country that was not her own. Mari did not realize how Japanese she was until she was immersed in Western culture. Her subtle bowing of her head was a habit that she had formed since childhood, something westerners always found peculiar. Her accent was this amalgamation of her time in Boston and her British English. Moving from Boston to London only confused her speech, eventually settling back into a soft English accent that could only be heard in a few distinct words.

"It was convenient," was all Mari could say after a minute of thought.  
"What about your family?" Kyouya pried.  
"Less convenient," she grumbled. "But it really just is my mother who is a bit of a nuisance. I do love my nephew very much though. He is a joy."

Kyouya remembered the photos on her desk in her office. Nothing else about her office was personal. Just like his own, it was always a professional setting without any trace of his own personal life. But Mari made the exception for her nephew.

"He seems bright," Kyouya murmured softly.  
"Oh, he certainly is," Mari smiled. "He loves museums. I would love to take him into our lab but it really is not suitable for a 5 year old. Too many hazards."

"Does he have a penchant for the sciences, then?"  
"I hope so," Mari beamed. "But regardless, he is a sweet boy. I am sure he will find his passion."

Kyouya had no interest in children. But for some reason, she made them sound like they truly were a joy. The brightness of her smile that lit up the room when she spoke about her nephew was something he hadn't seen in her for years. Kyouya could not relate very well to the topic of children, nor family.

"So are you going to see a therapist?" he coolly shifted the topic.

Mari shrugged. "I'll probably have to go to a couple before I settle on one that I feel is a good fit. But yeah, I should see one so I can stop burdening you with my silly problems," she brushed off.

"They aren't silly," Kyouya told her. "I'm sorry."  
Mari blinked at him. "Why are you sorry?" Mari hadn't heard him apologize so often in the decade that she had known him for.  
"I don't know how to help," the Ootori admitted.

"I wasn't asking you to," the scientist gave a small smile of reassurance. "If it is anyone who should be sorry, it is me. I shouldn't have subjected you to this emotional baggage. It is none of your fault."  
"I don't mind," Kyouya quickly clarified. "I…" he didn't know what else to say. He didn't want her to leave him. He used to pride himself in being emotionally distant until somehow he fell into this trance of suddenly letting his feelings take over. In the one time they had come close to sharing something beyond friendship, they were pulled back to reality.

The reality was that they were not made to be anything more than friends.

He knew that.

She knew that.

And quite frankly, that was more than enough that he could ask for. He wanted to respect her boundaries. No matter how much he thought they were opposites, they were never made to attract.

Somehow, they were always destined to repel.

* * *

"So, do young people go out for a run these days?"

Kyouya looked up from the monitor of his computer. Fuyumi stood at his office door with a bright grin on her face. It was nearly the end of the workday and his secretary hadn't scheduled for any meetings at this point in time. Kyouya made a mental note to make sure that his entire day was full, or at least, ensure that Fuyumi thought his day was too full for her to pop in.

"I suppose youngsters are all about keeping fit," she thought to herself. "Did you know she's flying to Switzerland later this week? And _so are you_!"

The heir tried to keep a calm façade. "I am meeting with investors on building a new facility using the Ootori Medicare equipment." Their European and US expansion was well underway.

"And your dear _Mari_ is in Zurich to present her drug development that the Ootori Corporation has _so_ generously funded at a conference. Did you know that?"

He really didn't. Quite frankly, Mari probably did not know he was going to be in Switzerland either.

"You know what's strange is that she flies economy," Fuyumi looked at her tablet. "We all know she could easily afford to fly first-class like we do."  
"Stop stalking my friend," Kyouya demanded. He wanted to snatch the tablet out of his sister's hands.

"What? As if you don't know this already?" His sister rolled her eyes.  
"I didn't," the brother answered truthfully. Unlike Fuyumi, Kyouya had a real job. And he wasn't obsessive. "We have something called boundaries. Also, I'm not crazy like you."

"Is _she_ crazy?" Fuyumi raised an eyebrow at him.  
Kyouya glared at his sister. "No. Please stay out of my life."

"I haven't told her about Mari, you know. Mother won't get off my back about this."  
"Then that is your problem," Kyouya shrugged. "Her problems are not yours. Learn to stand up for yourself, Fuyumi."

"Easier said than done," his sister grumbled. "So what's her deal?"  
"No deal. We are good friends," the Ootori repeated. It felt like he was a broken record player. "Nothing more."

Fuyumi frowned. "What woman does _not_ want to be with one of the most eligible bachelors in Japan?"  
"A woman who does not believe in marriage," Kyouya sighed. They had gone over this. "If you are telling me to convince her otherwise, you have no idea who you are working with."

"Are you saying you've tried to convince her?" Fuyumi raised an eyebrow.

"No. She has a fair point."  
"So, you two are just friends," Fuyumi repeated. "She doesn't believe in marriage. You refuse to see any other woman but her. Are you sure you're doing it right, Kyouya?"

"I'm not sure what you are insinuating," the Ootori turned off the monitor of his computer. He got ready to leave his office. Dealing with Fuyumi was the last straw after a long day of work.  
"Why do you pine over someone who is emotionally unavailable?"

"I'm not pining over her," Kyouya sighed. "What is so wrong about being friends with her?"

His sister sat down while he stood up to leave. Fuyumi watched as his brother packed his briefcase with documents he hadn't gotten through for the day.

"You've met with heiresses to pharmaceutical companies, investment firms, and real estate tycoons. They are all well-educated, raised with poise and class, and are more than beautiful. I would know. I vetted them all. Yet you're fixated –"  
"—I'm not fixated," the brother corrected.  
"Fine," Fuyumi stopped herself. "I'll be honest. These women are of higher calibre than Mari. They are richer. They are of better lineage. They are businesswomen with ambition that go beyond just being a housewife. So what is it, Kyouya? What is wrong with these women that you wouldn't even blink an eye for?"

Kyouya shrugged. "I'm not interested."  
"But you're interested in this one? The middle-child of a real-estate family. A former world-class pianist with a doctorate to her name and nothing else but a trust fund?" Mari was truly nothing compared to every other fish in the sea. And by sea, it was more of a small pond for the rich.

"No," the Ootori denied swiftly. "I'm not interested in her, either." He walked over to the door and reached for the handle. "My secretary will see you out."

"Why do you lie to yourself?" his sister called him out. "You're only going to get hurt in the end, Kyouya. Don't be stupid."

 _Don't be stupid,_ he repeated to himself.

* * *

Mari remembered presenting at her first conference alongside a few of her labmates when she was doing her Master's degree. A part of her couldn't tell if her fingers shook from the coffee or from the nervousness. The crowd of accomplished academics were always waiting to pounce on every little detail. They were shielded by the dark, and only glares that bounced off the light of the glasses could be seen.

Mari awaited her turn at the symposium. She listened to the string of accomplishments that followed her name. Research awards won in her name. Scholarships she had qualified for. It was so odd that she had even accomplished it all. Even then, Mari still felt inadequate in front of everyone. It was a feeling that she was never really able to shrug off. She later learned that everyone felt the same way, the imposter syndrome was a common sentiment shared by all graduate students and beyond.

Her 20 minute presentation went by quickly. It seemed to be received well overall, provided that Mari was able to answer all the questions with ease. It was a learned skill after all these years – she had come a long way from the stuttering grad student whose slides were poorly ordered with an ego that was far too sensitive to handle criticism.

Mari took off from the rest of the conference back to her hotel room to find a text from Kyouya.

 _Caught the last bit of your talk at the conference. I missed the majority of it due to other business engagements. Hope you're well._

Mari responded within minutes.

 _What are you doing in Switzerland?_

 _Business, of course._ He responded quickly. _Have you gotten dinner yet?_

 _No, have you?_

He texted her the address of a restaurant that only happened to be minutes away. It had a Michelin star, of course. Mari's stomach grumbled as her only source of sustenance were dry sandwiches and stale coffee. She had spent most of her day jet-lagged as she tried to keep her energy levels up for her presentation and while networking with industry professionals. She would fly back to Tokyo in a few days time.

Mari looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. The eyebags under her eyes were no joke. Somehow, the makeup had worn off after a full day, probably because she had been rubbing her eyes. Mari took off her contacts for the rest of the day, hiding her eyebags with a pair of Wayfarer framed eyeglasses.

Mari couldn't quite tell if the pair of glasses aged her or made her seem younger from the trendy shape. But she wasn't here to impress anyone. It was just Kyouya.

 _Just_ Kyouya.

It had always been _just_ him. No frills. Mari never treated him the way his business clients did, or how his friends did. It didn't matter what clout he had back in high school, or even now. It never mattered to Mari because he was just… him.

Mari forgot when she grew comfortable with him. Perhaps, on one of those nights at Harvard as they spoke about the most mundane things. Between campus life, arguing over wine and beer, healthcare policy, or whose family was the most dysfunctional. He always won the last one.

But still, he was _just_ Kyouya. Nothing else.

A part of her felt guilty and Mari couldn't pinpoint why.

 _Maybe this is something to unpack during therapy,_ she half-joked to herself. Mari sat upon a whole mound of unanswered feelings.

Louboutins on cobble roads were a poor choice. Mari did not pack those. Instead, she had these fall grey suede boots with a chunky heel and still gave very low leeway for Mari to keep her balance. Mari thanked the driver in German, remembering only bits of it from her childhood. She had Louise to thank for that. But even the thought of her made her stomach drop.

Mari turned to the reflection of herself through the glass doors. Her hair was held in a loose bun held together by bobby pins that were on their last days, it was a more casual look from her tight bun that she had initially put up for the morning. Mari held onto her black cross-shoulder bag, draped across her beige trench coat. She touched up her makeup while back at the hotel, a nude lipstick with a neutral eyeshadow. Her eyes were lined sharply with an extra coat of mascara. Pearl earrings finished off the look. She looked quite casual for an upscale place, but that was the least of her worries.

Her stomach growled while she was led to the table. It was empty to her surprise. Kyouya was always early to these things. Mari sat down, engrossed by the view of the Alps. Of course, he'd ask for the best seat in the restaurant. Alps at sunset was an incredible sight.

"Mademoiselle," the waiter greeted the guest with two menus, one for wine and the other for the main courses. "Your friend sends his deepest apologies."

Mari looked up in surprise. "Apologies?"

"I've been asked to relay the message to you by his assistant. He is currently caught up in a business engagement and will not be able to make it in time. He did insist on having you dine here, with all expenses taken care of."

The woman blinked. She felt silly for taking so long to comprehend that Kyouya wouldn't be here, across from her, casually making stupidly rich comments and updating her on the status of European healthcare policies. No doubt, he would also comment on the pharmaceutical industries as well.

"I can take care of my own expenses, thank you," Mari nodded politely. She gave a small smile.

"As you wish," the waiter left the woman to gaze over the menu.

Mari took in the view in silence. She ordered a glass of wine. What was this feeling? Was it fatigue? Perhaps, being jetlagged and all. But it was more than just being tired.

She was disappointed.

Why was she disappointed in his absence? Did she _really_ crave his presence? His arrogant ass with the stupidly smug smirk plastered across his face every time he flaunted his wealth and power?

She sipped her wine after a scoff to herself. Mari knew that was a lie, especially after all these years. Kyouya only flaunted his wealth and power to her as a form of irony for her. He knew that his wealth did not impress her, nor did his power ever instil fear in her. It made her laugh on most days. For others, it was always a reminder for them to understand that the Ootori was no meagre competitor in the world of business.

Mari ate her meal quietly, watching as the Alps slowly disappeared into the night as the sun set for the day. It was a serene dinner to herself as she broiled in her own thoughts. None that she could pour out to any company. None that would offer just an ear to listen, no opinions needed.

Goodness, he really was her only friend after all these years. The only one that stuck through all her degrees, her petty drama with the rest of her rich family, the one who somehow accepted her emotional unavailability.

It dawned upon her that she had always been too selfish to notice. Too caught up in her own problems, blinded by her own emotions that she always had a façade for. She had always labelled him as the man who was far too disillusioned by reality.

But she was a hypocrite this entire time to believe that she was not the same.

* * *

Mari moved across two oceans by herself. Loneliness was something she stopped feeling after she had settled into her own routine. The quiet nature of every morning with only the kettle that whistled throughout the kitchen. The pouring of the water through the coffee filter. Each drop of coffee echoed through the marbled room.

It was not quite the same in a hotel but it was similar while her kettle was on. She was in the midst of getting ready for the day, starting it off with a cup of tea. Fresh fruit and pastries were delivered to her door. It was no doubt, Mari still held onto her expensive habits from her childhood.

It was the second day of the conference and she was to speak on a panel. Mari packed light and wore the same pearl earrings. She looked nearly the same as yesterday, not that people really noticed nor cared. It was the science that spoke for itself, not how well she dressed.

As soon as Mari stepped off the stage with other panelists, she was caught by some former colleagues from Oxford. Before she knew it, it was already mid-afternoon. She hadn't intended on staying so long, in fact Mari had planned to take some time to explore the touristy sites. She sighed to herself. Perhaps she would wander around the town and save the hiking for another time when she had time to vacation.

Mari let her hair down and took off her conference lanyard. She had no set itinerary. She would eat whenever she got hungry at wherever was closest. For now, she decided to take herself to the centre of the city and wander from there. Her phone buzzed by the time she reached the lake. Mari took in the sunshine and the views before glancing at her phone.

 _Sorry about yesterday. Dinner tonight?_

She had other plans to be a tourist while she still could. The Ootori was probably too busy to spend time with her to begin with. Mari did not want to intrude on his own plans.

 _I wanted to explore the city. Sorry, you go on ahead._

Kyouya looked at his phone. Explore the city? Kyouya looked up the most popular tourist spots.

 _Where are you off to? Banhofstrasse? Fraumunster? Or Grossmünster?_

Mari rolled her eyes. It was very much like him to figure out an itinerary first. She put her phone back and decided to hop on the tram. She took a nice walk along the lake and then planned to scour through the little alleyways with no set schedule. She received another text a couple minutes later.

 _I am done meetings by 4:30. Let me know where you are._

It was 2:30 PM. Mari stopped by a small café for a moment, taking in a moment to check the emails on her phone and browsed the web. By the time she had caught up with news around the world and emails, it was nearly 3:30. Her coffee had gotten lukewarm. Her petit chocolate éclair untouched.

 _I'm out early. Are you free?_

Mari looked away from her phone. Everyone bustled about their day. Her sub-par German only got her so far, enough to order off of menus and to read maps well. She was free as a bird. Mari had no other professional engagements to attend to. But something made her feel so trapped beyond the walls of her own thoughts. Something unable to allow her to enjoy the fresh air, the beautiful lake, the towering Alps, and the sweetness in the pastries that were finely made by delicate fingers. Mari could not pinpoint what.

 _I'll come find you._

 _How_? She wanted to ask. How could he possibly track her down? Whatever method he used, it had to be illegal, Mari thought.

 _Don't._ She typed. Don't find me. Don't come after me. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of it. I never did and never have.

She only sent the first word.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 _Don't._

 _Don't be stupid,_ was all he could think of. She needed space, he could give her that. He could also give her the world if she asked for it. But why was he so willing? She hadn't done anything for him. He took a moment and thought about it. He couldn't say that – she was appreciative of him. She never expected anything of him, never once let him believe he was anything more than a friend.

That was all he wanted to be, right? He liked her presence, more than he did with the rest of the Host Club. He respected her more than he respected most people. She was a better person than he had ever been, quietly trying to make the world a better place without caring about the recognition. She had always been humble in her accomplishments.

Kyouya did not care for being anything more. What they had was enough. A friendship that had lasted over a decade. How could he ask for anything more than that? It would have been silly for him to expect anything more.

 _There are women of higher calibre than Mari._

She was not impressive by any means, quite mediocre according to the rich and elite. Mari didn't believe in marriage either. To be frank, Mari's non-traditional line of thinking would have stirred more problems for him than for her.

Mari always had the freedom.

 _My future is undefined. But yours is._ _You are destined for such great things. You have everything set out for you. A job. A whole company to yourself. Someday, a wife that will be handpicked just up to your standards. But I… don't know where I will end up and I don't plan on settling anywhere for long. I'm not made for a relationship – with anyone._

She told him the truth. He had accepted this long ago.

Or so he thought.

* * *

"You're friends with the Ootori, no?"

Mari looked up from her lab bench. A new post-doc had casually made the comment while they discussed their plans for the day, divvying up who would take which lab instrument for the morning and the afternoon.

"Acquaintances," Mari smoothly corrected without missing a beat.

"Oh," the post-doc's expression faltered from curiosity to scrutiny. "I thought he was funding your projects."

The scientist pushed up her safety glasses in question. "The Ootori group is generous with their funding to the entire department." For fuck's sake, he basically paid the entire lab's stipend and more if one really wanted to look at the books.

"People have been talking," the fellow labmate shrugged. "Said that you had something to do with it all, given your private meetings with him."

"They're project updates," Mari snapped. Her patience waned thin on the new labmate. They had started only a month ago. "It's not private. Inoue's in on them too," Mari gritted her teeth. The head of the lab sat in on the meetings when his schedule allowed for it. Though most of the time, their meetings were of no use to Inoue as he knew exactly what his students and post-docs were working on. He was a micromanager to the tee and it drove everyone up the wall – but they stayed because the grants were there and opportunities were always vast when students graduated from the top pharmacology lab of Toudai.

"Hm," the other post-doc was not entirely convinced. "You guys were classmates from that snooty school."  
"Snooty school," Mari muttered. This new post-doc surely had some guts to be making these comments. "Fucking hell, is that what we're seen as?"  
"Hm?"  
"Yeah, that snooty school," Mari rolled her eyes. "I was on scholarship," she clarified.

"Isn't your family well-off?"  
Mari blinked. Social cues really wasn't this person's strength. But then again, Mari had met many of these characters throughout her years of academia.  
"Sorry, I'm new. I just hear a lot about you throughout the department," the researcher shrugged. "You're kind of like the hotshot here."  
"I see," Mari took a deep breath. "What else have people said? Just out of curiosity," she added.

The new post-doc tilted their head and thought. "You are well-deserving of your accolades and that your work is spectacular. People know about your upbringing and your class; they believe your work was cut out for you, especially with your Harvard and Oxford titles seeing as your family could afford your education–"  
"—Again, I was on scholarship," Mari grumbled.  
"They say your grant money is probably because of your friendship with the Ootori."  
"—The grant is for the entire department."  
"Also that you'll probably end up working for the Ootori pharmaceutical wing so, you're not really being considered for any professorship—"

"Wait," Mari halted the new post-doc who listed off these facts robotically. "When did you hear that last one?" Mari had put in the application for the assistant professor position in the next academic year only a week ago.

The other scientist looked around to see if there was anyone else in the lab. No one really trickled in until after 9 AM. Mari and this post-doc were the only ones present at 8:30.

"No one really sees me," they admitted. "I was waiting outside of Inuoe's office for our weekly project updates and I overheard him."

Mari put down her pipette and shut her case of tips. This assay could wait until the afternoon. She had her meeting with the Ootori at 9 AM, with Inoue present if his scheduled allowed for it. Likely, it would just be Kyouya and her.

"Take the spectrometer for the day," Mari said stiffly. "I'll take my readings later tonight."  
"Oh thanks," the labmate nodded in appreciation. "I didn't mean any offense." It seemed like they picked up only one social cue out of the entire conversation.  
"No worries," Mari sighed as she began taking off her nitrile gloves. Her mood had already been soured for the day.

* * *

She expected his knock right on time. But he didn't. It was already 9:15. Mari checked her email to pass the time.

 _Sent: 8:58 AM_

 _Cancelled: Quarterly Update with KO_

No message.

Mari squinted. This was unlike him. But then again, Mari thought about Switzerland. She rudely texted him a one word response. She sighed to herself. It was her fault, but this was a professional meeting.

Well, it wasn't – if she had to be honest with herself. These quarterly updates lasted 5 minutes in terms of actual business but their meetings tended to venture into other topics. It was an informal lecture of her own science and the science that was happening across the department. Sometimes Kyouya told her what his friends were up to. Other times he told her of what was happening amongst circles of their families – rich people problems, really.

Mari picked up her phone and looked at the last text message.

 _Don't._

She pushed away her only friend because she was in a spiral of guilt. But he wasn't _actually_ gone, was he?

She typed to him.

 _You cancelled. What happened?_

* * *

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Fuyumi crossed her arms. She clicked the button on her brother's laptop.

"These updates are import—" he snapped back.  
"Kyouya, I've watched you watch stocks rise and fall by the second instead of paying attention to a shareholder's meeting and you're telling me _she's_ important?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "She's part of R&D."  
"No, she doesn't work for our company – she's affiliated because you donate 40% of her grants. A sizable amount considering what the government pays. She doesn't deserve your attention," Fuyumi snapped.

His phone buzzed.

 _Text from Mari_

He pretended not to see it so Fuyumi would not draw attention to it. Thankfully, Fuyumi began pacing around his office and was still on a rant about how there were so many more options. Or as far as options go for the rich and elite.

"Why don't you go to the event and meet her?"

Kyouya hadn't been paying attention to his sister and instead, had been re-reading Mari's report update.

"What?" he responded.  
"Just meet her. She's not Japanese but she studied here for the majority of her life. Their family owns plenty of pharmaceutical plants. It would be good to conquer the Eastern markets instead of the West."

Kyouya blinked. "Who?" It still didn't register what he was meant to agree to.

Fuyumi wanted to bang her head at the wall. She spent 15 minutes trying to convince her brother to go to a luncheon to meet a pharmaceutical company heiress and all she got back was _who?_

The sister narrowed her eyes at him. "You know what, I'll make your assistant cancel the rest of your day. You're coming with me."

* * *

As far as luncheons went, Kyouya was always unimpressed. Finger food everywhere, everyone mingled about with nowhere he could lurk in the shadows. He quietly trailed behind Fuyumi with a scowl on his face.

"Don't look so excited, Kyouya," his sister rolled her eyes. Her prim manicured fingers grabbed a small sandwich. "You're just meeting your potential future wife. There she is, talking with another suitor."

She looked rather plain to Kyouya. Dark hair up to her shoulders that was straight with nothing special done to it. Minimal jewelry on her body, her curves silhouetted by a grey pencil skirt and a dark blazer. She too, wore glasses like him.

"Another suitor," Kyouya repeated quietly before smirking. As if anyone could compare to the _Ootori_. The younger brother trailed behind his sister before Fuyumi introduced her brother to the woman.

"So lovely to see you again Xinlee," her sister greeted the woman with a smile. "This is my brother, Kyouya."  
"Nice to meet you," the stranger shook his hand. "You must be busy – what brings you here?"

Kyouya glanced at his sister.

"Well, my little brother needs a break every once in a while," Fuyumi laughed. Kyouya only rolled his eyes but his sister jabbed him in the ribs as if to force him to speak.  
"I am indeed quite busy," Kyouya confirmed before cleared his throat. "What is it that you do?"

Fuyumi bit into her sandwich aggressively. She already _told_ him what she did back in the office. The boy didn't even pay attention to her. She wanted to throw the lettuce into his face.

"I'm overseeing some capital venture projects with our company," Xinlee explained patiently with a smile. "I've been heading to a lot of these events trying to scope out some interesting ideas."

Kyouya nodded. "Sounds interesting," his aloof personality was usually what drew many women to him. But Xinlee turned back to the person who she spoke to before the pair approached.

The Ootori blinked before looking away on his phone out of habit.

 _You cancelled. What happened?_

He was going to type his reply until he read her previous message.

 _Don't._

* * *

Mari busied herself with her daily tasks, refusing to think of what was said to her by the fellow post-doc this morning. Perhaps it was better that he did not show up – it was clear that people had misconstrued their relationship.

But that did not mean she deserved to be passed over for an Assistant Professor position. It was one of the defining reasons why she even bothered to move back to Japan – knowing that this department would have good opportunities for letting her stay in academia.

Mari sighed to herself. Maybe it was time to quit. Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock on the door.

"Come in."

* * *

Kyouya looked up at his phone and perched up his glasses. He turned his attention at the foreign investor. Fuyumi nearly squealed with glee when she saw the two getting along. But then watched Kyouya politely bid his farewell after a few minutes. It was entirely formal, ending with her younger brother telling the woman that he was awfully late to his next meeting.

Fuyumi ran after her little brother in the hallway to grab him by the arm.

"Don't," she seethed.

He hated that word now.

"What?" he snapped at Fuyumi, retracting his arm from her grip. "I'm not your stupid charity case in trying to have me find happiness through a romantic partner."

The sister blinked. "Kyouya, don't be silly. We don't find _happiness_ through a partner. This is about the reputation of our family – ensuring that our business empire has a secure future. You knew that."

 _Right._ The youngest Ootori pursed his lips at the mistake. Fuyumi was right for the first time of the day. Kyouya knew this. He was not that naïve. But how could he have forgotten?

"You wanted to go see her, right?" Fuyumi sighed. "I don't understand what makes her so fascinating. She's spent her whole life in school. She has no practical experience. She has nothing to offer you."

"What do you know about her?" He scoffed. Fuyumi had an arsenal of surface-level information about this woman that he knew far more about.  
"I know that she's been seeing a therapist," she shot back.  
"Yes, that is correct," the Ootori rolled his eyes.  
"That doesn't bother you?"

Kyouya shook his head in disappointment at his sister. "She has been carrying a lot of grief since our teenage years. Have some sympathy, Fuyumi. You were the only person in the family who would have understood kindness more than anyone else."

* * *

Professor Inuoe walked into the post-doc's office. Quite frankly, it was a little bit of a nightmare. The stacks of textbooks that overflowed her shelves was a little terrifying. Her entire desk was covered in scientific papers, scrawls of her own notes, and raw data that had been printed from the instruments without any form of organization by any means.

It was a miracle that Mari could find anything in this office.

"Dr. Takuya," he greeted, albeit uncomfortably. Mari could tell that he hated seeing the mess of her office. She always tried to clean it before the Ootori came around, but within a few hours the papers were back on the desk and on the floor.

"Good afternoon," the woman greeted with a small smile. It was near the evening by now, but as far as she knew, 4:30 PM was still in the afternoon. Mari offered him a seat by taking the manila folder of her results off and sticking it on another pile on her desk.

Inuoe shook his head. "No worries, Mari. I don't need a seat. I was hoping to discuss with you the progress of your project as your fellowship comes to a close."

Mari nodded. "Right, yes. Of course. It has been a pleasure working with you."

"Likewise, you have been incredibly efficient in your work. Your research has great potential to be taken elsewhere."  
"Elsewhere?" Mari raised an eyebrow. "I had applied for the Assistant Professorship position… I had no intent to be leaving this institution."

Her supervisor shook his head. "You are a great asset to any institution, Dr. Takuya. We just felt that the position would have been better suited to someone else for now."  
"Of course," the woman pursed her lips. It helped that she knew of this news before her supervisor had come to break it to her.

"I'm sure there are plenty of opportunities for you in the industry," Inuoe pointed out. "Given your connections."  
"I have none," Mari coldly corrected.  
"Surely the Ootori could assist in something that would be of interest to you."

Mari took a deep breath. "I had always intended to stay in academia. I never wanted any big corporations to take ownership of my work for profit. I made that clear to you when I started this position."  
Inuoe nodded in understanding. "I am more than willing to put in a good word for you for whatever you pursue next."

"Thank you," Mari mustered in the most polite tone that she could. It was the least the man could do for her at this point. "I'll wrap up the project in the next few weeks," she added.

* * *

Sunday  
 _Do you want to grab dinner?_

Wednesday  
 _Okay, how about lunch tomorrow?_

Thursday  
 _It's Friday tomorrow! Dinner?_

Friday  
 _Please? I haven't seen you in so long, Kyouya._

Kyouya ignored these texts for the most part. Sometimes Tamaki would just show up at his office and drag him to lunch. It was one of those days where Tamaki had given up and showed up at the end of the work day.

"Kyouya!" he sang. He bypassed his secretary, as per usual. The first time he did it, the secretary was near certain that he would be fired. Turns out, the blonde was an exception to the people that were allowed in his office without an appointment.

"Uh, sir," the admin politely tapped Tamaki's shoulder. "He cancelled the entire day and hasn't been here since morning."  
" _All_ day?" he was shocked. "Where is he?!"  
"I'm not sure. His sister came."  
"Fuyumi? Oh." Tamaki thought hard about where the Ootori could possibly be.

He racked through his phone to find Fuyumi's number. She answered after a few rings as Tamaki stepped into the elevator to head back down to the ground floor of the building.

"Tamaki?"  
"Ah hello Fuyumi-chan!" the blonde greeted happily. "Do you know where our dear Kyouya could possibly be?"  
"He isn't at the office?"

"No…" Tamaki wondered where else the man could be. "Is he not home?"  
The elder sister scoffed. "Why would he ever come home except to sleep?"  
The blonde blinked. "That's true. Where else could he be?"  
"Mari's office, maybe," Fuyumi grumbled. "Although maybe not today because he seemed grumpy about what I had said about her."

"What did you say? Mari has always been sweet since our time in Ouran. But she hated Kyouya from the start. Such a coincidence that they both ended up in Harvard," Tamaki reminisced. "They ended up being good friends. I didn't know they still kept in contact. Where's her office?"

Fuyumi stayed silent on the line for a few seconds. "Just friends?" she pried.  
"Yeah," Tamaki shrugged. "They got along better after attending Harvard together."  
"Oh," Fuyumi wasn't convinced.  
"Mari is incredibly intelligent," Tamaki continued. "She always challenged Kyouya – it was probably refreshing to see him think about the world in other perspectives than his own. Or I mean, that's what Haruhi said. I just thought they seemed like great friends – I'm almost jealous. But nothing can come between Mommy and Daddy, right Fuyumi?"

Fuyumi had hung up. Tamaki shrugged and continued on his quest.

Where could Kyouya be?

* * *

He just wanted peace and quiet. Some things never changed since his time there.

Orchestra was always in the First Music Room from 3:30 to 5 PM. The Second Music Room was unoccupied. The Third Music Room was a ruckus. He had sat in the Second Music Room with an easel and canvas for the entire afternoon.

He hadn't thought about what he wanted to paint. His view was the glass window that reached near the ceiling with Victorian details. The grand piano was placed in front of the window, the light reflecting off of the polished ebony of the instrument.

By the time he had begun painting, the skies had turned into a gradient of warmth. The fiery orange-red hues that blended into the soft pink clouds - they looked like mounds of cotton candy flowing in the air. The painting was beautiful as it were. Kyouya left the canvas sitting there for the weekend before he began to clean up the paint and his brushes by the sink.

The sun had set and the skies were dark enough that he could no longer rely on the natural light to view the room. Light seeped through the edges of the door beyond the regular school hours. The door creaked open while Kyouya was rinsing the paint out of the brushes.

He had heard the door opening with the sound of the water going through the faucet. It must have been the custodial staff.

"Kyouya?" Tamaki stood by the door. He saw the light on and was curious to see what was inside. There was a high chance that it was just the custodial staff – but even then, Tamaki loved saying hello. "You were here the whole time?"

The Ootori looked up from the sink to see his friend confused. He finished up with the cleaning and dried his hands off.

"What does it look like, Tamaki?" he rolled his eyes. He adjusted his sleeves that had been rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loosened and untied.  
"It looks like you painted something beautiful," the blonde was fascinated. He reached out with his fingers before Kyouya swatted his friend's hand away.  
"Don't be an idiot," Kyouya snapped. "It's still drying."

"Oh," the blonde nodded. "Right." He stared at his friend. His raven hair was still done as it were in Ouran. His exposed forearms had grown to be more muscular than lean from what he remembered. The worry lines on his friend's face were faint, but more prominent than before. He still looked the same as ever – cold and collected, the same charm that had aged him into a man.

"What?" Kyouya grumbled. "What are you looking at?"  
Tamaki shrugged. "You've aged."  
"Thanks," the Ootori rolled his his eyes. He took off his tie and folded it neatly to be placed in his jacket pocket.  
"Like fine wine," the blonde tried to backtrack his last statement. The Ootori was unimpressed as he put on his blazer.

"Let's get dinner," Tamaki offered. "You must be hungry."  
The Ootori silently followed his friend out the door.

* * *

"I called Fuyumi first," Tamaki blabbered away about his journey in finding his friend in the afternoon. Kyouya ate his food quietly – he had been starving since the finger food luncheon that only kept him satiated for about an hour.

"And then Fuyumi hung up on me," the blonde cried out. "She told me you might have been in Mari's office but I had no idea where she worked!"

The blonde didn't think to search up Mari Takuya because he had been so occupied at figuring out where else his best friend could've been. Kyouya continued on chewing his food as he watched his best friend babble.

"I remembered that I had forgotten my papers at Ouran and needed to review those scholarship applications this weekend," his friend continued. "I had to come back quickly before they locked up the gates! When I came, I saw the light on in this room and voila! Like fate! You came to me! I came to you! Our friendship is beautiful, mon ami."  
"Did you grab the applications?" Kyouya asked.  
"The—" Tamaki sunk into his chair at the realization. "No… I didn't… grab… the papers…" The blonde sulked for a few minutes as he worked on his coq au vin. Kyouya only shook his head at the behaviour of his friend. Typical Tamaki to get excited over finding him and forgetting the entire purpose of his trip back to Ouran.

"How's Haruhi?" Kyouya asked. It was usually a good topic to bring Tamaki back from sulking like a child. Sure enough, Tamaki launched into a whole fifteen minutes of speaking about Haruhi's career and their upcoming wedding now that Haruhi had completed her years in Boston. Kyouya nodded occasionally, finishing his food well before the blonde did.

At the lull of their conversation, Tamaki remembered something. "Ah yes, how is Mari? Fuyumi said you might have been at her office. Do you two work together?"  
"Our company is funding a project of hers," Kyouya answered with as little detail as possible.  
"Oh, I didn't think she was back in Japan," the blonde only remembered her being in the UK after they had left each other in Boston. Granted, that was years ago now.  
"She must be doing well for herself, no? I hope she's happier."  
"Happier?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, she spoke of experiencing loss to experience happiness the last time we were all together in Boston, remember? I thought about it a lot. She seemed broken and sad. I wonder if she found what she was looking for after all these years," Tamaki wondered.

Kyouya took a sip of his wine. "I'm not sure. Probably not," he answered quietly.

"Why not?"  
He shrugged. "Mari is a realist."

"Like you," his friend nodded.  
"She knows better than that," the Shadow King murmured. "Than to expect more out of life."

Tamaki frowned. "She was good for you."  
"Why?" Kyouya took a big gulp of wine. "She's not the kind of girl to take home." He quoted her. She always reminded him that she was not right for him. And every time, he knew she was right.

The blonde tilted his head in confusion. "Did you _want_ to take her home?"  
"I don't want to _go_ home," Kyouya grumbled.

"I don't know," Tamaki shrugged. "I think you always respected Mari."  
"I do," Kyouya admitted.  
"That's more than you would ever think of most people," the blonde pointed out. "Even if you two never looked at each other as a romantic prospect – I think it would be a shame for you two not to be together, even platonically. Haruhi always insisted that two were romantically linked but that isn't true! Kyouya, you would tell me about it!"

Kyouya blinked. "Yes, I would," he perched his glasses up. "She doesn't believe in marriage, either."  
Tamaki looked appalled. "But… love! I love love! How could you not believe in the most beautiful thing about being human?"  
"She would argue that being human is not just about a rush of serotonin you feel when you are wired to mate with someone from an evolutionary standpoint."

The blonde shook his head. "You two are two peas in a pod. But I think she would agree with me. Emotions are human. You two are both human. Aren't you tired of being you, Kyouya? Being so cold and calculated? Don't you just want to feel vulnerable?"

The Ootori raised an eyebrow. "Ootoris don't show weakness."  
"This isn't the point, Kyouya," Tamaki grumbled. "I just want you to be happy."  
"I'm content," he gritted through his teeth.  
"That's what Mari said years ago," the blonde frowned. "Don't _just_ be content. You are allowed to seek happiness."

* * *

Mari went for a long run to clear her head. She was literally going to be out of a job in a few weeks. This would be something that any regular person would be losing their mind over. But instead, Mari mulled over how privileged she was. She had a trust fund that kept paying out until she was 35. She had a financial portfolio that she had someone manage since she turned 19.

She just felt so guilty.

Regular people would be searching for a job frantically. She was a regular person, right? Mari was reminded that she would never really be a regular person. She was always going to be out of touch with the commoners – how she would never experience the real fear of being out of a job when she came from the riches.

Mari applied to two more professorship positions within Toudai. She wondered if it was time to move again, even though she had already settled in Japan. Back to America – where it would take her nearly a decade to get a new citizenship. Maybe she would head back to the UK – but even then, Mari thought about uprooting her life once again and maybe this time for good.

It was not the worst option. It was just a bit of a hassle having to sell her condo, dealing with the paperwork, and then going through the hoops of becoming an immigrant. She moved back to Japan just to avoid it the hassle, after all.

She would miss her friends – her childhood friends that were all on scholarship from Ouran. Some were married now and expecting children. She would miss her nephew, Kai. And her little niece. Mari had roots here – but never enough to really keep her from staying. Nothing really kept her from staying in a place for too long.

She felt like a nomad her whole life. She wandered from continent to continent with no real purpose besides another place with a lab and a pursuit of knowledge. She was not motivated by money – just the thought of making a difference, if at all. Mari had always been plagued by the guilt of her privilege.

"Mari."

Mari looked around her. She had ended back at the entrance of her office out of habit. Her regular route was just through the park, but she decided to run beyond the park and wherever her legs would take her.

"Mari."

Shit, was she hallucinating now? Mari took a deep breath to try to calm her heavy breathing. Her head was spinning. She rested her hands on her knees. Mari took a gulp of air before standing up straight. She could see better now. The figure that stood outside the entrance of her office building was familiar.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still breathless. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. "You missed our meeting this morning," Mari murmured.

"Sorry," he apologized. He looked pretty tired. He didn't even have a tie on today, she noticed. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top. His hands were in his pockets as his back slouched against the glass wall to the lobby of the pharmaceutical department. His hair had lost a bit of its volume but he still smiled at her.

Mari remembered when he first smiled at her. She thought his mouth was twitching. But now, it seemed… normal to her. It was nice. A boyish smile, not his usual smirk that he gave when he knew he was right or above it all. His lips twitched up on both sides, where his cheeks also followed the upward motion.

Usually she would say something like, _what's wrong with your face_. But neither of the two were in the mood to bicker.

"What's wrong?" he asked her gently.

She felt the tears prickling the back of her eyes. "What makes you think anything is wrong?" her voice cracked. Oh goodness, she thought to herself. Keep it together, Mari.

"You don't run like that unless something is on your mind," Kyouya shrugged.  
"What are you doing here?" She tried to deflect the conversation to him while trying to get a hold of herself.

"Fuyumi cancelled the meeting," he explained. "Dragged me to this luncheon and had me meet this girl."  
"And?" Mari sniffled. Her tears had subsided back into the socket of her eyes but her nose had a mind of its own.  
"And I left," he coolly told her. "Told her I was late for a meeting."  
Mari nodded. "Yeah, you were." The scientist crossed her arms and looked away and sniffled again. Her high ponytail swung with her head. The more she looked at him, the more her stomach churned. Why did she feel this way?

"You know I forgot the purpose of meeting this girl today?" He scoffed to himself. "I forgot we only married for business transactions."  
Mari's eyes faltered as she looked at him. Their eyes locked. She understood him immediately. The disappointment that he had experienced in himself – forgetting that they were not made for love, if ever.

"Then Tamaki came looking for me," Kyouya continued. "He gave me a whole lecture about love."  
"Sounds like him," she quietly agreed.  
"And not being _just_ content," the Ootori continued. "And we talked about you. A lot, actually. Tamaki wondered if you had found what you were looking for all these years and whether you were happy… and then I ended up here after dinner. Because I wondered that too. But I didn't think you would show up."

"I'm not really looking," Mari murmured. "I've been wandering." She felt the warmth of her tears flood her eyes. She blinked them away. "I've dedicated my whole life to science so far. I have nothing else, Kyouya."  
"And you're okay with that?"  
"What else would I be?" Mari wondered. "A bad friend to you, I guess. I'm really sorry for… just being awful to you."

"You weren't awful to me," he shook his head.  
"Don't deny that you don't have feelings for me, Kyouya," Mari let her tears fall. "And I don't know if I can ever reciprocate them because I'm so afraid of hurting the only person who's been around for so long. I did it before and you still came back. I don't want to ruin the only good thing left in my life. I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm so sorry," she tried her best to enunciate her words as she broke down.

Mari wiped away her tears with her sleeve. It was soaked. She felt so embarrassed. "I've had a bad day today," she explained. "But I don't… I don't need a pity party and I don't need you to save me from all the stupid rich people problems that I have and that I hate myself for," she rambled.

Kyouya watched as she looked him in the eye before she was flooded with more tears. He stood straight and stepped closer to her.

"Don't," she choked out. She stepped back from him. Her body retracted instinctively, flinching at his movement. He paused as he looked at her more closely, she was terrified. She hugged herself, crossing her arms as she widened the space between them. "You don't want to experience heartbreak – not the way I have. You lie to yourself in thinking you're healing but you're just distracting yourself from the emptiness. It's a cycle of unhappiness. I don't want you to feel what I feel. The feeling of losing someone over and over again. You don't deserve it, Kyouya. You deserve someone who… isn't me."

"Mari," he tried to get her to listen.  
"There are better people out there," Mari denied. "People who don't have baggage like I do. People that have sorted out all their fucking problems. I'm just… not good enough."  
"You're a good person, Mari," Kyouya whispered. "That's enough. Just because your previous relationships –"  
"—What about you?" Mari pointed out. "You've never been in a real relationship."  
"Well, have you?" Kyouya scoffed. She was becoming illogical and letting her feelings get in the way. "You never stay in one long enough to underst—" he stopped when he saw the droplets of water fall from her cheeks. That hurt her more than he thought.

"I loved that boy," Mari croaked. "Bryan, remember? He wanted to get married, Kyouya. He had planned where we were going to live. He wanted two kids. He had our life planned out. He was… what I thought regular people would experience and he was… so lovely to me. And you heard it all next door – listening to my conversations with him on the phone when we broke up while I was at Harvard. How dare you think I was never in a real relationship, to tell me that I hadn't experienced what you will experience while with me."

"Mari, this is illogical – what makes you think we would ever stop being together?" he raised his voice.  
"Extrapolated the data," Mari shot back. "No one ever stays for long. You and I weren't together for long either - if you considered what we had a relationship. And I won't have a fucking job, so," she rolled her eyes. "My post-doc ends in two months, Kyouya. I can't stay."

"Is that why you're running?" Kyouya asked.  
"I run on a daily basis," she got defensive. "I'm trying to tell you that this is a bad idea. And I thought you figured it out when you cancelled our meeting today."

"Fuyumi cancelled it," the Ootori groaned. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You deserve happiness too. You are entitled to all the good things that commoners experience."

"Like what? Love? Will love make me happy?" Mari pointed out. "We can't experience that sort of thing. We experience pre-nuptials and overbearing families. What makes you happy anyway? Profits? Mergers? Good wine? Weird nerdy games like Tetris?"

"You," Kyouya answered simply. "You make me… happy," he admitted. "You don't make me _just_ content. You make me interested. Curious. Engaged. You excite me. You see the world… in ways I never considered. I miss it. And if friendship is all you want, that's fine with me – but you… you can't keep hurting yourself because it hurts people to see you like this too."

Mari frowned.

"You're frowning because I'm right." He didn't smirk. It would have tipped the scale to get her to fight tooth and nail to prove her point. He knew her well enough at this point to relent. He didn't like seeing her this way, either.

"Everyone has been telling me _don't_ today," Kyouya grumbled. "Don't do this, don't do that. I can do whatever I want," he announced. He stepped closer to her and pulled Mari into his arms. She was as stiff as a log as she stood against his torso. He rested his chin on her head comfortably. She smelled like jasmine.

"I won't do anything more," he assured her. He patted her back until he felt her shoulders relax.  
"Okay," she murmured. "Thanks."  
"We're still friends, Mari," Kyouya reminded. "I won't ask for anything more. You are brilliant in what you do. You have a moral compass that never wavers. You'll find your way wherever you choose to be."

"You think so?" she whispered.  
"Yes, I always have," he admitted. "I'm not here to fix you, Mari. You never were a damsel in distress – the Host Club tactics never worked on you and never will. If they did, I would've had you in my arms without having to fight through it all."

She laughed a little. "Sorry, I'm a piece of work."  
Kyouya shrugged. "I don't mind. What we have is more than enough. I'm grateful for it."

"Me too," she sighed. Her arms wrapped around his waist – a familiar feeling of warmth filled her heart.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Mari saw the invitation pop up in her inbox two weeks prior. She dragged the invitation into her deleted folder without blinking an eye. A week later, her phone rang as she left the office.

 _"_ _Please?_ " her little sister begged. " _Kanda and Emi are on holiday in the Maldives. Father is too frail to go out for now and Mother only goes to events when she deems necessary."_

The older sister sighed. " _When is it?_ "

" _Saturday evening,_ " Yuki chirped. " _You can meet my boyfriend, Ryu – he'll be around. I'll send you a PR package in the mail!"  
_ " _There's no need,_ " Mari murmured. " _I'll be there. I'll say hello. Do the older sister thing, right?"  
_ _"_ _I can even send you some inspiration for what to wear in an email!"_

Mari was never really in the limelight after her stint as a professional pianist had ended. High society hadn't seen Mari in any event beyond Kanda's wedding nearly a decade ago. Quite frankly, no one cared enough to even be curious about the woman. It was exactly how she had wanted it. But instead, Mari found herself putting on diamond earrings on a late afternoon before slipping into a black high-necked jumpsuit. The fabric flared at the sleeves before accentuating the waist. Mari moved around comfortably in the outfit, the pop of red of her Louboutins was a nice touch, she thought.

She was given no guest list. Nothing but the context of the event – a fundraiser for heart disease on behalf of their father. It made sense to have at least one other Takuya family member there. She dabbed perfume on her wrists and the back of her ears. Mari looked at herself in the mirror and wondered what it would have been like if this was her full-time job as a socialite.

It would have been exhausting. Yuki was the kind of person that was made to handle the spotlight. Kanda as well, considering how he was groomed to be the head of the family. Mari was just – there. Always in the background. Forgotten only until she was useful – like tonight.

Photographers were sprawled across the venue. Mari made sure to avoid them like the plague, taking note of their outfits and making sure to step behind them at all times. She picked up a glass of champagne with her manicured fingers and made her way along the counters that showcased Yuki's new perfume. A fraction of the purchases went towards the fundraiser, she read.

Mari looked around for her sister. She suspected that Yuki was swept up in the crowds, given that she was the one spearheading the event. The older sister made her way behind a pillar, looking around for any familiar faces.

There were none. Only familiar sponsors – the Takuya Estate Group was obviously one of them. Several hospitals, particularly the Ootori. Mari wondered if there were any developments between their families in recent years to have fulfilled this partnership.

A tap on her shoulder made her turn around. Yuki, of course, was the only one who could spot her sister. A group of cameras had followed the socialite around.

"You're here!" Mari could only see joy in her eyes. Something instinctual kicked in, the need to protect her little sister from knowing what else was beyond this bubble of high society. Yuki would never understand that a fundraiser would only do so much to help the world – not understanding that the problems in society were far too large for her privileged fingers to grasp.

Mari had been jaded after all these years – but Yuki, her wide smile was one that brought so much positivity and love. Mari felt like the grinch for feeling bitter about how her little sister had lived. This was all Yuki knew. All that the youngest sister had ever experienced in her life.

Her intentions were good. Sometimes, that was all that mattered. Mari was only a few inches taller than her younger sister, and the hug melt her arms away into the baby of the family.

"This is Ryu!" she excitedly introduced. "Ryu, this is my sister, Mari."  
Mari shook the boy's hand and gave a small smile. "I haven't heard much of you, if I'm honest."  
"Me neither," Ryu answered. "Yuki said you were a professional pianist?"  
"Not anymore," Mari softly responded.

It was all she was ever going to be known for, she figured. Something about it made her feel bittersweet. All the things that she could have become, all the things that she could have been surrounded with for all these years. She achieved none of it. None of it was fulfilling to her.

"So what do you do now?" her boyfriend asked casually.

Mari glanced at him. He was dressed for the part. He was lean and tall, his hair was swept up with gel, and a charming smile that would make any girl swoon. Mari was not a girl – not anymore. Not the kind that would quiver at the thought of her past, the shell of a pianist that she left behind decades ago. The bitterness that used to make her blood broil was no longer present. Mari looked at Yuki as she ogled her boyfriend.

"I'm a scientist," Mari answered with a polite smile, ignoring the fact that her sister was enamoured by this new boy.  
"Can't say I know much about science. More of a finance guy," Ryu shrugged. "It was nice meeting you." He was bored and Mari had no intent of entertaining him either. Mari bid her farewell to Yuki, congratulating her on a wonderful event.

"I'm proud of you," the older sister smiled. "This was so lovely. Your new set fragrances are wonderful."  
Yuki beamed. "Thanks," she held her sister in for another hug. "It means a lot."

Mari looked at the Movado watch on her wrist. Half past 8. It only took her an hour to somehow get spotted by Yuki. It was time to leave after fulfilling her part as a good sister. Her heart felt at peace knowing that her sister was happy.

A woman tapped her on the shoulder for the second time of the night. Her long brown hair was curled to rest on her shoulders, with a beautiful dark grey dress that hugged her figure. Mari was half-expecting the woman to ask her for directions because Mari had no other purpose besides being a wallflower and maybe looking like a competent person that knew their way around the venue.

"Hello," the stranger greeted.  
Mari nodded in acknowledgement, but mostly out of confusion as it was odd for anyone to be approaching her.

"You're Mari, aren't you? The middle child," the woman continued with her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I wouldn't call myself the child anymore but," Mari gave a quiet chuckle. The kind to present a friendly demeanor, in the midst of all of the facades that were placed on everyone's faces tonight. "Yes, I'm Mari. You are…?"

"Fuyumi," the woman answered while extending her thin hand. Mari shook the hand out of politeness. "You don't come to these events very often, do you?"

Mari shook her head, "Not at all. I'm just here to support my younger sister." The scientist had never seen this woman before. Something about the name Fuyumi sounded familiar. Mari wondered if she was a family friend of sorts – but her face did not look familiar.

"That's very nice of you," Fuyumi pursed her lips. "We do business with the Takuya group," the Ootori explained, trying to fill in some of the confusion that that Mari had on her face.

"Ah," Mari nodded. "Sorry, I am unfamiliar with our family's corporate matters. I let Kanda take care of the business and Yuki takes the role of upholding our family's reputation."

"And your role?" the female Ootori smiled.

"I stay out of trouble," Mari mirrored the same polite smile that Fuyumi gave. The Ootori chuckled to herself. Mari was the one with quick wit. Fuyumi could see why Mari was good company.

"How so?" Fuyumi raised an eyebrow, testing the waters.

"Don't be seen," Mari responded without missing a beat. "Unless, someone is specifically seeking me out." Mari put her walls up and thought rationally before stepping into a trap she was not prepared for. "If you are here on business, I would refer you to my elder brother. If you are here to congratulate my lovely sister and her philanthropic efforts, I can connect you to her. But if you are here for me…" Mari trailed off. "I fail to see any reason why I would be of any use to anyone in this room."

Fuyumi smiled – the kind of familiar smile that Mari recognized in Kyouya. The one who was willing to play the same game, the amusement that sparkled in the woman's eyes.

"You are… interesting," the older Ootori mused. "A mystery."  
"Is that why you're amused?" Mari kept her tone light. She was not here to make enemies, but she certainly was not here to make friends, either. Mari was reminded of who she was surrounded with and where she was in this place in time.

"I'm Kyouya's older sister," Fuyumi explained. Mari's eyes widened in understanding.  
"Ah," Mari nodded. This was indeed, as Fuyumi described, as an interesting turn of events.  
"I hear you two are friends," the Ootori pressed.  
"I would hope he thinks so," the younger woman answered vaguely.

"He does," Fuyumi reassured. "Enough that it poses… a risk," the Ootori spoke in the kind of language only the upper-class understood.  
"A risk," Mari repeated. "And what risk do I pose to the heir of the Ootori Group?"

Fuyumi's gaze turned from amusement into a stern expression. "My brother needs no distractions at this age."

Mari took a deep breath. "I understand."

"Stay out of trouble, Mari," Fuyumi reminded. The elder Ootori gently tapped Mari on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowds.

* * *

Kyouya tried to ignore the figure that sauntered into his office mid-afternoon. It was one out of the two people that would do so: Fuyumi or Tamaki. Tamaki hadn't texted to see him recently, which only left the older sister of Kyouya who crossed her arms as if she had a trump card.

"Mari," Fuyumi revisited her favourite topic without any segue. Kyouya rolled his eyes and kept his eyes on his monitor, still pretending that his sister did not exist. How many more times could he explain that they were good friends?

"She's taller than I thought she would be. Pretty in a very... modest way," the older Ootori continued. "There is no doubt that she is very intelligent though. She's quite witty."

Kyouya stared at the graph in front of him, trying his best to focus. He clicked mindlessly through the presentation that was meant to be given to the shareholders in the upcoming quarter.

"She is as sophisticated and elegant as any young woman who grew up in the higher class would be. Would not have ever pegged her to be someone who had spent so much time with commoners," Fuyumi continued.

The little brother didn't bat an eye. These were all obvious things about Mari he already knew of. Fuyumi was just a bore to him at this point.

"I met her, you idiot," Fuyumi snapped. Kyouya peeled his eyes away from the screen and turned his chair to face Fuyumi.  
"What did you do?" the CEO growled.  
"Nothing," Fuyumi shrugged. "I just had a chat."

Kyouya scoffed. "Our family doesn't _chat_ with people." The only chats that their family had with others were of business intent. Mari certainly had no business with the Ootoris – it was her brother that would be the one to speak to. "What did you do?" Kyouya asked again, his voice deeper.

Fuyumi rolled her eyes. "I told her to stay out of trouble."  
"Mari isn't the troublesome one, it's you," Kyouya snapped.  
"Why do you defend her like that? Would she do the same for you?" Fuyumi glared at her little brother.  
"It doesn't matter," he responded, looking back at his screen. "Why are you so obsessed with the woman? You basically called her mediocre at best."

Fuyumi wandered around the spacious office, overlooking the entire city of Tokyo. She sighed.

"She isn't mediocre," Fuyumi admitted. Even Fuyumi had to see that Mari was someone who was admirable, at least from a distance. "But she isn't someone who I believe is right for you."

"I never said she was right for me," Kyouya muttered. Mari had always been emotionally unavailable – that was not news to him. Somehow, he was numb to that fact after many years.

"I just think she… she's selfish," the sister explained. "She goes ahead and leaves the country for a decade, left behind a stellar career in the arts to become something of herself but – Kyouya, do you think she's made anything for herself? Her brother upkeeps the business. Her sister ensures that their family is still relevant in socialite circles. What does she _really_ do?"

"Nothing that you'd understand," the brother shot back. "That doesn't make her selfish, Fuyumi."

"Again, why do you keep defending her? We as siblings, even though are not the heir to the corporation, still uphold our family's honour. None of us go rogue like she does. We still put our family first."

Kyouya scoffed. "Mari is far from _rogue_."

"Kyouya, the woman literally dropped her entire career in the performing arts to go to Harvard to study something irrelevant. She was at the pinnacle of being world-class. What else could she have—"  
"—Her mentor committed suicide and Mari has been living with that burden for her entire life. Can you blame her?" Kyouya shut his laptop in annoyance.

He was met with silence from his sister who digested the information. It only took a few seconds before the elder Ootori got back on her feet.

"Kyouya, it's been at least a decade," Fuyumi stood her ground. "Whatever she does, she does it on her own with no other consideration of anybody else. Including you."

Kyouya shoved his laptop into the case and packed up his documents to leave. It was mid-afternoon and he had no meetings for the rest of the day anyway. His mood had been soured and his review of the report was due by the end of the week. He still had plenty of time to finish.

"I'm not defending her," he gritted. "I understand her."

"Do you?" Fuyumi questioned. "Do you really know what the woman is thinking? Or is she just another mystery you want to solve?"

"See yourself out," Kyouya bid his farewell. He grabbed his jacket from the rack and left his sister in her tracks.

* * *

Mari sat in her near-empty office. She accumulated so much paper over the years – mostly data that were now digitized but Mari had always liked having a paper copy to annotate things on. Mari had always preferred the old school way of things. She sat next to her shredder with a mountain of paper – some that were wrinkled, or coffee-stained, others that had piled from print-outs of studies that she had always been meaning to read but never gotten the chance to.

The whirring of the shredder left her ears numb to any other sound, including the knocking on her door late afternoon.

"Mari," his voice got buried in another round of shredding.

"Mari," he tried again. The woman was too busy emptying out the bin into a larger recycling box. He knocked on the door to get her attention during a quiet lull.

Mari turned to the door, half-expecting the janitor to come around. She had stayed so many late nights that she had become friendly with the custodial staff. It wasn't the janitor who had come to take her recycling bin away. It was him.

"Oh," the scientist blinked. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Did Fuyumi come see you?" Kyouya got straight to the point.

Mari put down the bins of shredded paper. She moved another mountain of sheets from a chair so Kyouya could have a seat, to which the man gladly took. He sat down with a sigh. He slouched in the seat out of fatigue. It must have been a long day, Mari thought to herself. She walked back and sat behind her desk before leaning back in her office chair.

"She didn't come see me, at least not here," Mari explained. She spent her whole day cleaning up her office and her neck was sore. Mari let down her hair and sighed. Her hair had a slight curl from being up in a bun all day. It was mesmerizing to watch until Mari pulled him away from his thoughts. "But she has a point."

"What point?" Kyouya pressed on. Fuyumi's words had bothered him enough that he came straight to her office in rush-hour traffic.  
"She told me to stay out of trouble. Which I assumed meant to stay away from you. So," Mari sighed again out of fatigue. "You aren't really helping me here."

"I'm not trouble," the Ootori groaned. "And neither are you."  
"I think Fuyumi is right," she softly murmured.

"Why is she right? I just spent a whole afternoon proving her wrong," Kyouya grumbled. He rested his fingers at the bridge of his nose, trying to make sense of it all.  
Mari shrugged. "Your older sister is looking out for you. You can't blame her."

"For what? For meddling? It's ridiculous, Mari. I'm a grown adult. Everyone just wants to see me married. As if that's an important part of running a business right now. I can make my own decisions."

"That, you can," the scientist agreed. "But she thinks I'm… a distraction," Mari was more calm about this whole thing. If she had to be honest, the idea of it stung a little. Mari was seen as some kind of annoying fly that flew around the Ootori – useless and an absolute annoyance to everyone who needed the Ootori to fulfill their society's cookie cutter mold.

"If you're a distraction, then Fuyumi is an absolute commotion," he threw his hands up in the air. "Why does it matter that we're friends? Why can't everyone just lay off on this?"

"It's not about our friendship, Kyouya," the scientist gave a small smile. "I value what we have. I really do. But Fuyumi is right, it's about the optics."

Kyouya scoffed. "Let the world think what they want to think."

Mari chuckled to herself. "I feel like… you regressed into who I was many years ago," she spoke softly, almost reminiscent. "I hated everything about our world. The pressure of up keeping our family's reputation and legacy. The bubble of being so privileged. The entitlement of everyone and their judgements upon you – Kyouya, I learned that I can never escape this world. I admitted defeat as soon as I had stepped foot back in this homeland."

"You're telling me not to fight?" Kyouya matched her softness. He wasn't expecting her to say such a thing. He was met with the fatigue. Loneliness. "Why?"  
"This is a battle I would not pick," Mari explained.

"So I should just get married to shut Fuyumi up?" Kyouya huffed.  
"I'm not telling you to do anything," his friend laughed at the suggestion. He had a habit of jumping to what seemed to be the most logical conclusion. "I'm just trying to explain that people misconstrue our relationship, including your sister. It makes it difficult to uphold the values people expect, especially of someone in your position."

"Position?" he repeated in confusion.  
"It's higher than mine," Mari reminded. "See, I can do these things," she pointed to the stack of papers that piled up to her neck. "Because people no longer find me relevant. But you, Kyouya – you are very much relevant."

" _You_ are relevant," Kyouya scoffed.  
"If I were relevant," Mari responded slowly. "I'd be married by now."  
The Ootori blinked. "Yeah, I guess." Mari would be another tool to secure a partnership with another real estate magnate, he figured. She would be easier to marry off if people knew who she was. But no one really knew Mari, nowadays.

"And if I were relevant," Mari continued. "You and I would be married, no?"

His eyes widened at the possibility. His mind jolted at the thought. Well, it wasn't entirely far-fetched but – his thoughts were interrupted by Mari's quiet chuckle.

"I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "You'd be married to someone of higher calibre than me. You know that. Kyouya, that's why Fuyumi tells me to stop being a distraction. You need to meet other women, that's all she's asking – I think."

"It's not like I haven't _met_ other women," Kyouya groaned. That's all he really did anyway. _Meet_ women with no intent of seeing them beyond the initial meeting. "Omiais are stupid. Luncheons are dumb. Everything that Fuyumi is putting me through is silly."

"I don't doubt that," his friend responded. "But at some point..." she sighed. "At some point we all have to reach that stage. Your brothers and your sister have gone through it. My brother, Kanda, married Emi. They have two children now. Yuki will... marry whomever she chooses and whomever my mother approves of."

"And you?" he raised an eyebrow.

Mari shredded a pile of paper, letting the whirring noise seep in the silence. She took the few seconds of the shredding to give her a moment to think. Mari took a deep breath before answering.

"I told you I don't believe in marriage."  
"I know," Kyouya shrugged. "But you've still had relationships, at least."  
"They didn't last," Mari pointed out.  
"And why not?" he pressed.

Mari looked around her office. She still had at three mountains of paper to shred. Her bookshelves were empty and filled with dust now. The photos of her nephew and niece that adorned her long desk were now at home. Her office looked so clinical now that it was emptied out. It felt like a reflection of what her heart had felt like. Emptied.

Mari continued shredding the paper, letting the buzzing noise settle as she sat back on her office chair.

"Kyouya, I could never escape, no matter how much I tried."  
"Escape what?"

"How could I hide that I come from a family that owns over millions of estate across Japan? I couldn't. My partners would ask about my family and..." Mari trailed off. "You know, at some point - it just didn't seem worth it to lie, to upkeep a life that wasn't ever going to be mine. A commoner life. A simple life with someone."

"That's all?" Kyouya blinked. "As if people would stop loving you because you come from the rich?" He rolled his eyes. "Mari, that's like hitting the jackpot."

"It isn't," she snapped. "My family would never accept a commoner, Kyouya. I was naive enough to think that Bryan would fit but - my goodness. It was over a decade ago. It still makes me feel guilty. My heart aches thinking about what we could have had. I know I was young. I was caught up in all these emotions and ultimately – it hurt me more than I thought it would."

"You could've just ran away," the Ootori grumbled.  
"Could I?" Mari smirked. "If only it were that easy, Kyouya. Run away and pretend I had no family. That's quite cruel to them, isn't it?"

"You did, for a while, no?"  
"I tried," she admitted. "Like a nomad, I travelled across the Pacific. Then across the Atlantic. I couldn't stay, no matter how much I thought I could."

"Why did you come back then?" Kyouya sighed. "You seem unhappy, either way."  
"I was unsettled overseas," Mari had a forlorn expression on her face. "I was neither American nor British. I fell in love with travelling but never a place where I could call home. I felt the freedom of being tied to nothing and nobody but..."

"You were tied to your name," Kyouya understood – in the same manner that only people in their social circles would understand. The burden that they both bore by having their last names attached to themselves. Kyouya could never run away from being an Ootori. Likewise, Mari could never run away from being a Takuya.

"My father doesn't have much time left," the woman knew it. The whole family knew it. Whether it was public knowledge was just a matter of time. "I would have been forced to come back to settle the estate at some point. And even then, I would have to face the rest of my family."

"Did you come back just to settle the estate then?" It was a valid question, after all.  
"I came back to face what I had been running from all my life," Mari corrected. "Running away from privilege didn't mean it disappeared from me. I was young. I thought I was being rebellious. But I was naive, Kyouya."

Mari grabbed another bunch of papers, smoothening out the crumpled edges before feeding it through the machine once again. A few minutes had passed before Kyouya had taken in all his surroundings.

"What is all this?" Kyouya glared at the mess.  
"Data, mostly," Mari answered simply.  
"Why?"

"I have to vacate this office in two days," she responded. "I don't have a job, remember?"  
"What?" He blinked.

"I told you this a few weeks ago," Mari rolled her eyes. "When you showed up after I had run from my house to my office. I was very upset that day," she stated factually. Kyouya was suddenly transported to that night where he held her in his arms. It felt so natural. He quickly pulled himself out of his own thoughts. He needed his rationale back.

"What are you going to do?" Kyouya couldn't imagine not having a job. Though granted, he very much had a job as soon as he graduated. It was a rite of passage being part of the family business.

"Um," Mari let the shredder take over the speaking. "I... applied to another professorship position in another department."  
"And?" Kyouya pressed on. Mari could tell he was coming from a place of concern, not judgement. She let him ask the questions he had been dying to ask otherwise.  
"And... I've been forced to look at some industry positions," Mari let out a sigh. "It's not ideal but–"

"–You can work for us," Kyouya offered.  
"No," Mari flatly denied. "I am grateful for your offer but I cannot rely on my connection to you for a job."  
"You are more than qualified, Mari," Kyouya pointed out.  
"This is nepotism, Kyouya," Mari shot back. He already knew from the look in her eyes that she would never take the offer. So he tried a different approach.

"It's how I got my job," he shot back.

There was a split second of silence before they locked eyes and two chuckled.

"It's funny because it's true," Mari smiled. "Hey, you're getting better at this joke thing, hm?"  
"I'm learning," he smiled back. The boyish smile that Mari had gotten so used to seeing during her days in Harvard. It was a good look for him, she thought to herself. Mari wondered how often others saw him the way she did.

The Kyouya that was horrendous at emotional intelligence, but was somehow getting better at it than what she remembered. The caring man who hid behind the mask of indifference instead of the cold and calculating CEO. The boy she had abhorred to the man she had grown to enjoy the company of, if only platonically. Mari stuffed another bunch of sheets into the shredder.

"So why is Fuyumi a commotion?" she turned the question to him.

"She called you selfish," he rolled his eyes. "Someone who wouldn't do the same for what I would do for you."  
"I can't really offer you a job," Mari reminded. It garnered a quiet chuckle from the Ootori.

"She thinks I defend you for far too much than you are worth."  
"Well," Mari shrugged. "She isn't wrong. I did run away for a long time. I cared very little for my family's reputation because I knew I wasn't harming it but I surely wasn't advancing it either. I did things for myself and nobody else because I was allowed to. I lived on my own terms and I still do. I'm selfish," Mari concluded.

"I'm selfish too," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "You think the job of being the heir was just handed to me?"  
"Yeah," Mari admitted, half-jokingly. "I really did, at some point."

Kyouya huffed and rolled his eyes. At this point he knew that was a joke - after many years of their friendship.

"I'm just saying – I know how the optics are," the scientist smirked.  
"And... you don't care," Kyouya realized.

"Sometimes I do," the woman admitted. "I won't lie - I felt like I didn't get the original professorship position because of you." If the two were on the page of sharing feelings this evening, there was no reason why Mari would hold back on this.

"What do you mean?"

Mari pursed her lips. "People think I'll just end up working for you because we're close. It doesn't take a genius to understand that we work well together - we've worked together since Ouran. Like I said, the optics aren't ideal."

"Is that why you won't take the job I'm offering you?"

The scientist crossed her arms. "I care little about my reputation as a socialite because I'm hardly one of them, but when it comes to my academic career, I care a lot. I worked hard to get here, Kyouya. I clearly still have a lot to prove."

The Ootori nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry," his tone serious. "I did not realize the impact of our meetings that would have on your reputation here."

Mari let the words ring in her ears. Something in her chest felt like it had unknotted. A wave of relief that washed over her shoulders. An ache that had been released after a long time. She didn't realize that that was all she needed from him.

"You know, it's very odd hearing you apologize."  
"Was it a good one?" he quickly retorted.  
"Yeah," Mari smiled. "It was very genuine for a robot."  
"Thanks," he smirked. Mari was used to that look on him.

She let another pile of papers shred before handing the bin over to the Ootori to empty. It felt so natural to be working alongside him. They were always efficient with each other, knowing exactly what the other needed at the right time.

"I won't say your sister is wrong," Mari went back to the topic at hand.

"I will," Kyouya grumbled. "She's wrong about you. You aren't selfish, Mari. You're strong-willed. Your moral compass has always defined your actions."

"Thank you," she softly responded. "People don't see it, but I know you take a lot of effort in making healthcare more accessible. You're one of the good ones out there," Mari admitted. "I read your public health report in partnership with the government in the last quarter. It was really good, Kyouya."

The woman fished out of a document from her pile and handed him the report that she had read over and over again. She had annotated her thoughts. Kyouya remembered pouring long nights over this a few months ago.

"I'll admit, I was about to shred it a few seconds ago," she chortled. "But you can have it. It was a lot of hard work, I'm sure."

Kyouya noticed the coffee stains on the cover page and glared.

Mari shrugged. "Take it or shred it, Kyouya."

He took it and quietly put it in his laptop case before emptying out another trash bin full of shreds into a larger garbage bag. This really wasn't how he had planned his Wednesday evening to be going.

"Our world places families first," Mari reminded. "Fuyumi is right that I don't put my family in a place of priority. That isn't something I would find to be particularly good about me."  
"Well, neither do I," Kyouya agreed. "They weren't really family. Just business partners."  
"What about Fuyumi?" Mari reminded. "She's still your sister."  
"The closest thing to a sister, fine," he waved off. "But you and I both grew up similarly. Neglected until needed."

Mari sighed before nodding at the truth. "Wow, is that why we're fucked up?" she half-joked. "You became a robot. I became an emotionally unavailable scientist."  
"That's basically a robot, Mari," Kyouya pointed out.

"Two peas in a pod," she shot back before grabbing another pile of data to shred. Kyouya let the buzzing of the shredder nullify his thoughts in the background, tying up another garbage bag of shredded paper. He had rolled up his sleeves by now and loosened his tie.

"I understand you," he said.  
"Hm?" Mari looked up from her old data, coming back from a nostalgic train of thought.

"Fuyumi thinks I don't understand you."

Mari blinked. "You understand me because I tell you things I should be telling a therapist," she scoffed. "But yes, you do. You understand me because we grew up in the same social circle: the rich and the elite. You understand me because you knew me before I became who I am today."

Kyouya nodded. "Likewise. You understand me."  
"Well," the scientist rolled her eyes. "That's the basis of a good friendship, no?"  
"Right," he agreed. "Fuyumi has no idea what she's talking about."

Mari put her papers down and narrowed her eyes.

"What else is there?" the woman could tell that the man had been itching about something at the back of his mind. He wasn't entirely done yet.

"She said that you wouldn't do the same for me. I don't know why that bothered me," Kyouya grumbled.

Mari shredded more papers to have herself think about the statement. Kyouya went back into organizing her mountains until there was only a pile left. After an hour, they had shredded and cleaned up the rest of her office. Mari could leave the entire place behind for the next post-doc that would come along.

"I'm selfish in a lot of ways," Mari admitted. "I know I'm not really emotionally available, either. Fuyumi could spot that from a mile away. I'm pretty much everything you would want to avoid in someone you'd want for a long term partner but - quite frankly, I'm just not ready. "

"Ready for what?" he asked.

"More heartache," the woman admitted. "Sometimes you get caught up in the fantasy of settling down and it still hurts when you know it won't happen. So... I think I'm just settling into finding happiness - not in anyone else but myself, you know?"

Kyouya nodded. "I understand."

"Yeah, tell Fuyumi that," Mari smiled. "But for the record: I would do the same for you."


End file.
